Departure

Journal excerpt,
December 20, 2009

You know, it's a funny thing, life. What it does to you. What you do with it.

I am sitting in the very same spot where M and I sat, three years ago, watching most of Running with Scissors and waiting for our flight.

From this spot, I can see the Manhattan Skyline in the distance. How small it is, unreal once compared to the vastness of America. I step out of it, look back, and am amazed. Is this really my towering giant of a city, in which I helplessly -gladly- get swept away? And I know that it is.

Last time when I sat here, what a shaking leaf I was. So this break is break up. I could barely stand to look at the City, slipping from my grasp.

Now, I look at it and giggle. My heart swells with love, with joy at the thought of coming back to it, soon.

A flock of geese appears at the horizon. They make their way places. They'll be back.

New York, honey, I missed you without knowing why sometimes. With a longing like a gaping black hole in my heart, relentless even with the passing of time and the makeshift healing of my soul. I came back for you, and I have not regretted it for a single moment.

New York, honey, you are home.