About two months ago. It was an awesome trip. We had a great time.
Today I came across a picture of a place in Central Park on someone's flickr stream and I was reminded about our brief foray to the Upper West Side and Central Park. And I am struck by how I remember feeling.
Growing up just steps away from the park, I owned the place. I really did. I ran around there all the time. I played there. I walked through it to get to the Metropolitan Museum of Art almost every weekend. It was an extension of my home.
But when we were there it didn't seem like home any more. Perhaps the thirty years I've spent on the opposite coast have something to do with that. Honestly, I've always identified myself as a New Yorker, but the last few times I've been there, I realize that I am not a New Yorker. I guess I was, but I'm not anymore. I don't like being a left-coaster. There's not much to it. I don't feel like it offers much substance.
I keep thinking I would like to move. My first two choices are Seattle or Vermont. Well, actually, I want to live in Vancouver, BC, but that would be more complicated to pull off, as I would need to organize citizenship... Zeus keeps talking about Austin, but I think it would be too hot for me there...
I guess I am a woman without a place. That's ok.
I can think of worse things to leave me feeling unsettled. And, overall, life is still fabulous.
Thank you.
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