Wherein I reflect how hard it is to leave New York City because it got inside my bones and won’t let go easily/
We all know the phrase: “everything happens for a reason.” I know that I believe it. But I also know that it’s easier to look back on something happening and understanding the reason behind it versus being in the middle of a “happening” and trying to figure out the reason.
I had myself convinced that turning 30 wasn’t a big deal. I wasn’t going to freak out or have a meltdown or bemoan my age or what have you. I was a mature, confident, almost-30-year-old woman, and what was such a big deal about that?
And then February happened.
Why do I write? I write to fill pages with new moments, to bring someone to live, because it’s important, to know what happens next.