I’ve been back in New York for over a year now. The lease on my apartment is almost up and, in the midst of the scramble to find a new place, to rearrange my life once again, that where-did-the-time-go feeling has been rearing its worrisome head. It has been difficult for me to re-embrace New York as my home, and there is probably a bucketful of reasons for that, but just today I realized that number one on the list is a sense of homesickness, this feeling I’d forgotten about for almost two years, since I was living in Massachusetts in 2010.
There is probably a lot of self-deception involved. For most of the time that I lived in Mass, I was homesick for N.Y., and it’s easy to ignore that fact now that I’m back. But upon returning to my native state two Septembers ago, I immediately regretted the decision (or at least part of me did). I guess, when you move, there is always that sense that you packed up and left just as you were finding your niche. That was certainly true in this case.
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