Goodbye, New York: 29 days left

New York, 2008

The only way I know to truly time travel is to visit places I knew earlier in my life. Allentown, PA is 18-22 years old, notebooks and candy runs to Wegmans and such youth, despite what the law says. France will always mean mid-20s to me, kissing strangers and wine and chasing the last metro home.

But New York is where I really became an adult. And in the future when I time travel back here, the muscle-memory of Manhattan will transport me back to the days when I was finally gainfully employed and going somewhere.

Brooklyn, by the by, is where I became a wife and mother. Brooklyn will forever carry the feel of a family of three - all the love and the grit of it.

I've turned a corner. Tonight, for the first time, I see this move as a flag staked for this precious moment in time when we were young and our son was just a baby boy and we were doing the best we could with what we had.

I'm glad to be closing the chapter on Brooklyn now, before it takes on the memory of an older Noah. In this way, we stop time. Noah will always be 18 months in Brooklyn. All it will take to bring us back is a walk down Court Street, remembering the parks and the benches we stopped at, the playdates and the pediatrician appointments.

The reality of this age won't last for long, but our memories of it are carved here, on the streets and in the bricks of the neighborhood, forever.

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