We took a boat to IKEA today, to the mother ship. I helplessly stuffed my bags with moderately vital trinkets and herring jars; we filled up on obligatory meatballs and patriotism. I reminded myself that I would be there soon enough, that I needn't stock up for winter famine. I reigned myself in.
All these visits, all these beautiful angels and connections to the Life-that-was. My roots begin to untangle, the jellyfish tentacles pull away and cease to sting as violently as they did. Some days I do not miss what was. After a lifetime of reveling in the pain of separation, I settle into the calm of the aftermath.
I had a short moment today, after leaving one friend in Chelsea and trudging towards another in that garden on Charles, when I looked up and saw the Empire State being lit, when I paused and realized that this is my life and that this life is mine, when I was completely overwhelmed. How glad I am to live in New York. How glad I am to live. Everything else, fades in comparison.
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