A week ago yesterday I moved to New York.
As I closed up shop at work last night, I walked outside and headed towards the train. I could look to my left and I could gaze at the trees in Central Park, to my right my eyes could be blinded my the lights of Times Square. I am in New York.
I realize it’s going to take time to feel like I live here, because at the moment it all seems a bit fuzzy and unreal. I haven’t even come close to grasping the trains, or the grid system. When people tell me where they live I smile and nod because nine times out of ten I have no idea what they are talking about. As someone who likes to know whats going on around her, it’s a bit of an adjustment to be naïve.
I have been thinking a lot about how it felt to move to Chicago and how long it took me to feel as though I understood the city, to feel like a Chicagoan. The major difference between then and now is being a student provided me with a set of “walls” in which to grow. Whether they be walls of a dorm room, a classroom, or the invisible walls around a campus street, I had an environment I immediately understood. I could slowly step out of these streets, as I felt comfortable, and begin to understand this new city that I now called home. Now there are no real walls to speak of, I just have to figure it out. I know I can do this, I just have to be patient.
Ah patience, a virtue I have never possessed.