It took -almost exactly- two months on this island before I was homesick.
Because the climate here is tropical–it acts like a time warp for me. I’ve been trapped in June.perpetually. It’s getting annoying.
Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years—they were all literally lost. It’s like they never happened. I couldn’t “get into the spirit” and neither could Scott. On 12/31 he looks at me and says “does it feel like New Years to you?” Hell no! I repled.
It just didn’t “feel” like the holidays—but after 29 holiday seasons, I suppose missing one won’t kill me. It saved me money, at least!
Still, today I finally found myself really missing New York. I was IM-ing with an old neighbor about our neighborhood (which is covered in snow–NYC has one massive Xmas blizzard) and memories of walking up and down my street came over me–and I missed it. I missed it horribly. I missed my friends horribly.
This day was bound to come…and for the slightest moment I thought I might even want to move BACK to NYC after our tour here; even though it’s not really an option.
When I left New York, we were on the “hate” end of our love-hate relationship. Don’t get me wrong, NYC has been and will always be home for me. I love that city with every cell in my being. You could rip me apart at the seems and all you’ll find in the heart of me in New York.
I am New York, but I also get pissed off at New York. New York is a BAD boyfriend. He treats you like shit, and just as you’ve come to your senses and are ready to drop him like the sack of shit he is, he does something sweet–out of his character, and then you fall weak, have rockstar sex and go back to thinking “maybe he’ll change” and the cycle starts over.
When I left, New York and I were on the outs, and there was no time for make-up sex. Well, we briefly had made-up sex…when I walked across the Brooklyn Bridge with my sister and high school sweet heart — looked back and wondered “Do I really belong anywhere else?” and the answer is: I don’t. I don’t even know that I belong there. I don’t really belong anywhere…which perhaps explains why I love New York. In all the places I’ve lived, I circled back to New York every year, ever so briefly to feel “at home” and I left just as quickly as I came to prevent anything other than the bliss of a WHAM BAM THANK YOU MAM.
But after a year and a half in New York — we saw each other for what we both really were. and what we were not.
We don’t have the kind of love that can last a lifetime. But we do have a history.
and even when we’ve moved on, we can still miss. I mourn the loss of New York, even if he was an asshole to me.
