I’m missing New York today. Missing it a lot. Like I could sit here and cry, a lot. But I won’t. I’ll write instead, in the hopes that writing will do the trick.
The last night I was in NYC I met with a few friends at a bar for drinks. On the way there I fell (thank you Sizzle for jinxing me!). I was wearing new high heels and apparently lost my balance and ended knee first on the cement. My friend Luisa had a band-aid on hand and I sported it all night. My first reaction when I fell was to get up and say “It’s ok, I’m fine, nothing happened.” But you know how pain takes a little time to kick in? Well, when it did, it hurt. Like really OUCH hurt, and I’m not just talking about my ego. I scraped my knee and got several bruises on it from that fall. I still have a bit of the scabs and scar, and it’s been over two weeks now.
The longing I feel for NYC is kind of like that scar I now have on my knew. I didn’t feel it at first. I was too busy with the move, the unpacking, the settling in to feel anything. Now, once everything has calmed down a bit, now when I’m starting to realize I now live somewhere else and this is not temporary, this is it. It sinks in. And it hurts. Ouch. I miss New York.