Woke up this morning totally disoriented. Gripped the side of the bed as though somehow it were drifting down the Hudson River. Then, as I blinked back the sleep, I realized where I was. I was in my dream home of 4 ½ years and not in my quaint, 2 bedroom apartment in New York City. Where did the time go, I wondered and how did I manage to get here without really feeling the movement of time? I lived in New York City since the day I was born and who would have thought I’d move 30+ years later? Yes, I always said I’d move from the hustle and bustle of the Big Apple to somewhere warm and tropical, where the Tankini rules. But to go from dreaming it to actually making it happen? How did I pull that rabbit out of a hat? And why on earth would I be contemplating that now?
I love where I live. The sun, for the most part, is always shining and I really never tire of the beautiful palm trees. And yet, I can’t help feeling a little nostalgic and home sick for the sounds and smell of a city that never sleeps, for bagels that are always warm and for hot dogs that can’t be beat. For Chinese food in Chinatown and amazing Risotto in Little Italy. I miss all of my old stomping grounds and my one in a million boutiques. What I wouldn’t give to fall asleep to the sweet sounds of the City’s “white noise” and wake up to the voices of another day. Living in the City is art-in-motion and I guess I’ll always want to be a part of its vibrant rhythm. My address is in the tropics but my hometown will always be the great N.Y.C!