The Return
This is the first time I’ve ever returned to a place I’d left. All the other big moves in my life—to college in Ohio; to Spain—had finite end dates, and when I left, that was that. I have, of course, visited Dayton, and, surely, will visit Spain. But it’s unlikely that I’ll live in either place again.
When I left New York, however, I was certain I’d return. It felt like a temporary departure, not a permanent one; even now, nearly five years later, it feels like I’ve only just left. And here we are, ready to return.
Whenever I tell anyone we’re returning to New York, I’m tempted to say “in a blaze of glory”—as though we’ve endured something, or overcome it, to get back. This isn’t at all the case. We left willingly, even happily, for greater things (Barcelona) and necessary things (first post-MBA job), and are now returning, quite naturally, for the next step in Andrew’s career and our family life. The “glory” that keeps popping into my head, however, does have a meaning that’s less dramatic and triumphant than the word would imply: I am returning to New York with a husband I adore and a daughter I cherish—so much more than I left with. All the early-New York, single-person floundering, for both of us, is over; we’ve found, incredibly, what so many people come to the city to find. And if this return also involves an amazing new job for Andrew, full of promise of great things to come, so much the better. (It would be lovely if I could return—triumphantly!—with published novel in hand; alas. But a completed novel, even an as-yet unpublished one, is, I suppose, more than I left with, too.)
The city has gone on without us these past five or so years; and though we’ve gone on without it, too, it has never been far from our minds. Only a few more days until we ease our way back into city life, merging carefully into the swiftly moving current, glancing into the rearview mirror only briefly as we accelerate and become part of the city once again.
When I left New York, however, I was certain I’d return. It felt like a temporary departure, not a permanent one; even now, nearly five years later, it feels like I’ve only just left. And here we are, ready to return.
Whenever I tell anyone we’re returning to New York, I’m tempted to say “in a blaze of glory”—as though we’ve endured something, or overcome it, to get back. This isn’t at all the case. We left willingly, even happily, for greater things (Barcelona) and necessary things (first post-MBA job), and are now returning, quite naturally, for the next step in Andrew’s career and our family life. The “glory” that keeps popping into my head, however, does have a meaning that’s less dramatic and triumphant than the word would imply: I am returning to New York with a husband I adore and a daughter I cherish—so much more than I left with. All the early-New York, single-person floundering, for both of us, is over; we’ve found, incredibly, what so many people come to the city to find. And if this return also involves an amazing new job for Andrew, full of promise of great things to come, so much the better. (It would be lovely if I could return—triumphantly!—with published novel in hand; alas. But a completed novel, even an as-yet unpublished one, is, I suppose, more than I left with, too.)
The city has gone on without us these past five or so years; and though we’ve gone on without it, too, it has never been far from our minds. Only a few more days until we ease our way back into city life, merging carefully into the swiftly moving current, glancing into the rearview mirror only briefly as we accelerate and become part of the city once again.
Comments
presenceis missed in CA. I showed your pictures to Allison an she pointed to the phone as if Lucia was right here! Then she grabed the phone. Can't wait to read the rest tomorrow.