I made my last post not thinking, at that moment, what day we were remembering. I’m glad the city was on my mind.
two years after the attack, I packed 2 suitcases and moved there. my flight happened to be on september 11th. my mom cried. I moved to NYC without a job, without a place to live and I only knew 2 people. the first night I was there I sat in the rain on the metropolitan museums steps waiting for a phone call from somebody I was hoping would let me sleep on their couch. I loved that moment. everything was a question.
I was there a month before I moved there, working for my dad when the “blackout” happened. we were kicked out of the marriott marque in times square and slept on the street. my sister and I sat with thousands of strangers in the middle of a dark times square staring at the stars above. I think most people thought that would scare me away from wanting to move there. nope. the opposite happened. I feel in love. I don’t think you can sleep on cigarette and gum covered asphalt in times square and not feel like you and the city are in it together.
a bunch of my friends agree that when you live in the city (and love it) it’s like you’re dating each other. I can go into this line of thinking more if you like….but when I moved, and didn’t come back, it felt like a break up…and now I find myself love sick. It’s a boyfriend I just can’t get over.
we’ll always have our sleepovers on my rooftop. always.