Lone Traveler
July 2021
I’m either in the aftermath of another romantic comedy about New York City once finally finding love and traveling the world or I’m at the part where I’ve escaped only to have my real home call out to me for my return, making grounds for plenty of twists and turns: What Will She Do Next?...
Part of me dreads going back. Having a taste of a different quality of life tethers me to a new place, but the truth is, my heart craves the concrete. It has beaten me up and spat me out more times than I have had heartbreaks, but often rewarded me to the point of wanting to melt into the sidewalk on the North East corner of Bryant Park where so many things have been mourned or celebrated. It’s the vastness of weighted air in such a small island where there are so many people and so many souls floating around you that you feel like one-in-a-million in the center of the world when Manhattan only covers, like, 20 miles?
I think if I were to die, my soul would take shifts between hovering over Central Park and following my parents around. I’d probably take weekend trips to Brussels and all of the other places outside my home where I’ve chased love. I’d chart out my life time and time over to explore the decisions I didn’t make. I suppose I’ve started to do that now since life does continue on after leaving New York City—and after every dive into the unknown for that matter. If I concentrate hard enough, I can imagine life in other places where I am not and what I could be doing in a given hour.
This may be the first time that I’m traveling in my own lane rather than dipping into those of others. Even while making up a very equal half of a committed partnership, I’ve discovered more freedom to be myself and have autonomy over where I am and what I want to do. I’m an active cheerleader for what other people are making and discovering. I watch and learn before taking on new relationships. Life after a pandemic has become both more singular and collective at the same time. I have more focus on building a home and a place—or many homes and many places. I want to peruse through the city to see if things are in fact changing, to swim upstream again, and watch the birds in the park.
I’m either in the aftermath of another romantic comedy about New York City once finally finding love and traveling the world or I’m at the part where I’ve escaped only to have my real home call out to me for my return, making grounds for plenty of twists and turns: What Will She Do Next?...
Part of me dreads going back. Having a taste of a different quality of life tethers me to a new place, but the truth is, my heart craves the concrete. It has beaten me up and spat me out more times than I have had heartbreaks, but often rewarded me to the point of wanting to melt into the sidewalk on the North East corner of Bryant Park where so many things have been mourned or celebrated. It’s the vastness of weighted air in such a small island where there are so many people and so many souls floating around you that you feel like one-in-a-million in the center of the world when Manhattan only covers, like, 20 miles?
I think if I were to die, my soul would take shifts between hovering over Central Park and following my parents around. I’d probably take weekend trips to Brussels and all of the other places outside my home where I’ve chased love. I’d chart out my life time and time over to explore the decisions I didn’t make. I suppose I’ve started to do that now since life does continue on after leaving New York City—and after every dive into the unknown for that matter. If I concentrate hard enough, I can imagine life in other places where I am not and what I could be doing in a given hour.
This may be the first time that I’m traveling in my own lane rather than dipping into those of others. Even while making up a very equal half of a committed partnership, I’ve discovered more freedom to be myself and have autonomy over where I am and what I want to do. I’m an active cheerleader for what other people are making and discovering. I watch and learn before taking on new relationships. Life after a pandemic has become both more singular and collective at the same time. I have more focus on building a home and a place—or many homes and many places. I want to peruse through the city to see if things are in fact changing, to swim upstream again, and watch the birds in the park.
A magic feather in a pool.