Last week I went to New York City, and I want to have more to tell you about that, but things are weird right now, Friends, what can I say? I will tell you that Snapple is alive and well in The Big Apple, something which both delighted and surprised this little westerner. Here’s what else I was tickled to see:
I really did have an amazing, quick little visit. I ran around the park. I spent time with my cousin, which is something I’ve been longing to do ever since our whirlwind visit last spring. Because–up until that point–I’d forgotten how easily we get along, how long we’ve known each other, how very similar and very different and very strange we are.
And this trip was a little different, because she’s having a rough time and adjustments and things, and I’m just sort of floating around in the ether, but I was happy to be with my cousin.
I do love New York City. I would love to live there someday, and I almost did once! Really! I came THIS CLOSE, but in the end I turned down the offer. Because it scared me. Because I was young and had a boyfriend. Because I am the absolute worst at making Life Choices.
And now I’m back in a similar spot–stuck between two equally tempting, equally improbable choices. I’ve lost the ability to imagine a near-future for myself. I try to picture it, and my mind goes blank. Either option seems vague, uncertain, and unreal.
I wish I had more to say to you about my trip to New York City. I had a good time. I always have a good time in New York, always am happy on the road, away from home, on my own, little sarah, Big World, etc.
But then I always come back home, in the end, back to Utah. Even though I dread it. Even though it feels like a slow death. Even on the airplane home, I can feel it sucking me back in–“…but your family is here, and what about your little sister and nephews? And what about your job and coworkers? And what about your friends and musicians? And your apartment? And…”
And…and I don’t know what to do about all that, Friends. I just don’t know.