Jason is always referring to NYC as the hot girlfriend in High School who you were so lucky to be dating but who always had you A) guessing if you were good enough for her B) acting paranoid about how long the relationship would last before she dumps you c) wondering if she really liked you, and then finally D) wondering if you really wanted to date such a high maintenance chick.
Wouldn't the sweet girl with the nice smile from the back row in Math glass be just fine if not better? At least then groceries, transportation, education, storage of any kind would never cross your mind. You could look forward to summer, not dread it, wondering how on earth you'll find access to a swimming pool. Worst of all, you'd not wonder on a monthly basis if you're doing right by your kids.
But then you'd never cross the street on the way to the hardware store and look up at the Empire State Building you can see up 6th Avenue from 50 blocks away. Jay-Z wouldn't be rapping about your neighborhood. You wouldn't watch a movie and exclaim all the time, "hey, that's [insert NYC neighborhood you were just in the day before]!" Your kids wouldn't open a book or watch a TV show (such as Little Bill, Sesame Street, or anything Dr. Seuss) that didn't take place or refer to NYC.
We've had several friends visit us in the past month, and for the first time as I talked about living here I realized that how I was doing it wasn't strange to me anymore. But realized it was to them. Taking your car out once a month? Normal. Buying groceries only on a 'buy what you can carry' basis? Sure. Excited to be paying $420 a month to park a 7-year old minivan, because that rate is a steal? Naturally. So the question is, have I given in? Or given up? I'm fighting it less and less- I've stopped crying foul at what it takes to live here. It is so complex, yet so much easier. I am happier and more content with yet another resolve to dig my heals in and do my job. My family needs me, more than ever. NYC feels like a good fit.
I will say that going away and seeing how everyone lives is becoming more painful, because it is the last memory I have of how it used to be for me. I've blocked it out of my day-to-day thinking in order to be happy here.
London was the first to go (thankfully, since she sets the tone for the others). One afternoon she said, "Mom, you know what I hope for? Maybe one day we can have an apartment with outdoor space. Wouldn't that be great?" No more bitterness at the loss of our yard. She's pining for 10 square feet of sky. I
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