This past weekend, August began.
August is the month we originally moved to New York.
This past weekend marks 8 years.
I can’t believe that I am old enough to have lived somewhere 8 years as an adult.
And I can’t believe I’ve lived in New York for that long. Seems shorter. Or maybe longer.
I used to think how neat it would be to live in a city. I thought the city would be Boston and I thought I would just like it for a year. I wanted to experience each season in the city, and then I wanted to move to a smaller town where I belonged. But as life unfolded, the city was not Boston and the commitment was not 12 months. It was a bigger city for a longer time.
And now, oddly, it’s just home.
After years of wrestling and hating it here and wishing my life was not so urban, I can’t imagine living anywhere else. I’ve been sucked in. I’ve stopped analyzing every little thing about New York. There are stinky parts about New York and great parts about New York…just like anywhere. And at some point during the last couple of years I lost my balance sheet and the goods and bads stopped meaning so much.
And that’s been such a relief.
It’s much easier to just like the place you live.