New York City is a place for people. Quite a generalization, right? But you see, it's just that simple. I could not count on my hands and feet the different walks of life I saw, if I tried. It is a place where there is little time to stop walking and study the wardrobe choices or the cosmetic appearance of the passerby. And because of this, there is little time to judge.
Among all the cliche things that we did while in the city, one of my favorite pastimes was to lounge in Central Park and absorb the chaos. And if you're lucky, you'll find a spot atop a boulder that allows you to overlook the park AND the skyline. I could have spent an entire day there and would have never noticed nor cared that time was passing slowly.
I found myself being swallowed by a city and its 8 million residents. Oddly enough, I did not mind. The anonymity of the bustling streets was liberating considering that at home, I am unable to spend 15 minutes in my favorite coffee shop without being approached. I realize that that is a little harsh. However, there are days when I would love nothing more than to slip into an oversized sweatshirt and fall into the flow of things without being noticed. New York City is the place to do that.
Tears started strolling the minute I buckled the seatbelt in the taxi that was designated to take us to the airport, and again when our plane took off. One would think that I was leaving a love behind. I was. A love for a city and the millions of beautiful reminders that it too, could be my home.
My feet were sore and blistered from walking the streets of that sleepless city. But there was/is an ever present sense of awe instilled in me. Yes, I was raised in a small seaside town on the opposing side of the country. But my home is wherever I am. And I promise you, I will be back there some day.
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