What do I sometimes do (I say sometimes because most of the time I just stare at the proverbial pen in my hand and then give up and make my way to the fridge) when I "don't know where to start?" I start anyway, even if smells like a heaping pile of crap. So here's a story about people and places I love. I hope I do them justice.
I spent my summer in Manhattan working at a youth theater and I loved it.
There are too many people, the lights are much too bright, and the summer heat is much too hot, leaving very little room for a breeze. Trust me, I had a more than mild mental breakdown about a week and a half in.
But there are also people that are immensely kind and incredibly unique, lights that brighten the world's biggest stage, and heat that... well, the heat is still ridiculous. The joy was in the little things. My students and the people I worked alongside. The people I lived with. It was understanding the transit systems, getting to know the people inside the cathedral and not just staring at the ceilings, and realizing that no sane person actually wants to spend time in Times Square. Carroll Gardens in Brooklyn is a pretty neat place for a night-in and friends who are obsessed with Beyonce make great partners in crime on the Express (party) Train. I can tell you that there are at least two Thai (yum) restaurants on almost any street and that the best place in the city is kitty-corner to the giant monolith that is the main branch- the slightly unkempt and rarely populated Mid-Manhattan Library.
It's been hard to come back. I love my home, my family, and the safety and love I feel when I'm around my friends here. But the opportunities that the city provides were incredibly difficult to leave. I was scared to say goodbye to the people I'd met for fear that I might never get to see them again.
However, I did miss the stars. I feel a little closer to Heaven when I can see the stars, and even standing on the rooftops of Manhattan you can't see them. That was always a little reminder that home would never really lose it's place. I don't think I've changed too much. I still love to read more than I love my own health. I still crave carbs and drink too much wine (is there really such a thing as too much wine?). I continue to worry about my complete and utter lack of academic motivation. I'm still addicted to caffeine, put a ridiculous amount of salt on everything, and I continue to be the worlds worst person ever because I refuse to check my voice mail. In fact, I'm sure my inbox is full right now.
New York in all its glory gave me a greater appreciation for all things unique, new, old, and extraordinary. I learned that I truly love to teach and that I love to perform. The world, it seemed, knew me for who I actually was in that moment. I came to a stronger realization that God is absolutely everywhere and that He'll show up even if I'm convinced that it's impossible. I saw it in the people I lived with, in my family on the East Coast, and in the people with whom I went to church. A bit of the divine consistently showed up in people I met on the streets or in a cab, and in the wonderfully exhausting children I worked with everyday. When I got in the taxi with all of my suitcases at the end of my stay, I cried. The cabbie looked in the rear view mirror and said, "God gave us the life, step by step, you know?"
I am happy to be home. I want to go back to New York and I believe that I will. Most of all I feel incredibly grateful that no matter where I am, I will always have something to miss.
Love,
Me
