On October 6th at about 11 AM, I left NYC. For good.
My good friend Steve picked me up and we drove over the Williamsburg Bridge and I watched Brooklyn, the only place I have ever really felt at home, disappear in the passenger side mirror. But before I jumped, well more like hobbled into his car, I took one last walk down Bedford Ave and grabbed three bagels and said a horribly tearful goodbye to someone.
I would just like to say that love affairs with pre-ordained end points, are both flabbergastingly amazing and soul crushingly sad. In these last three months I found someone who I could easily see, in a different world, spending the rest of my life with — quite happily, I might add. This has added a whole other dimension to my departure.
I always knew it would be sad to say goodbye to the city I love and the friends, who are far more family than blood ever will be, but saying a far too premature goodbye to this love affair feels far more like a bloodletting than the beginning of an adventure.
Walking down Bedford, back to where I was spending my last days in NYC crying was not exactly how I wanted to spend my last hour in Brooklyn. But, that is just how it was. Me, holding on to three everything bagels like they were gold, with tears streaming down my face, trying to hold on to that lingering last glimpse forever.
I was actually pretty sure I had spent all my tears when I took my foster kitty Helen to my friend Ken’s. Or when I visited a few days later to say goodbye to her and him one last time.
But apparently not. Apparently, I am made of tears.