Missing

I miss New York. A lot. I miss the stirring of people, the rich diversity and it’s no-nonsense aura. The stark contrast of utter anonymity with the unspoken camaraderie that all New Yorkers share calls to me. I feel alive here, more so than any other place I’ve lived or visited.

Last night I spent the evening with Ryan, who chose NYC (with strong encouragement from me) to conduct his residency in his Psy.D. program. He’s flourishing here. Seeing him on the opposite side of the street as I emerged from the Spring Street station, I saw his NYC glow. Puma-clad, wrapped in a big blue scarf and a grey sweater, he was the epitome of the City. In spite of his Tulsa upbringing, he is in the perfect environment for his intellectual and bohemian pursuits to prosper.

In SoHo, we sipped martinis and dined on sushi next to anonymous celebrity. I saw his building in the quaint Village neighborhood, and drank coffee in the shop below it. His actor/waiter friend Steven served us and made us feel like we were in his living room. It was pure intimacy, in spite of its vast landscape.

As he walked me to the corner to catch a cab back to my hotel, we chatted about whether or not I’d ever move back to the East Coast, or specifically, whether I’d ever come back to NY. Though I didn’t have an answer, I can say this: It certainly wasn’t “No.”