That’s when it hit me that’s it’s been an entire season that I’ve been in New York. A season filled with interviews, with being published (here! and here!), with reunions with old friends and late night wine talks with new ones. A season of walks and runs through Central Park while I listen to the late, great Nora Ephron talk about the city she loved. A season of apartment hunting and furnishing and throw pillow-buying. A season of making a home, even if it meant infusing it with my old one.
But don’t you just love New York in the fall?*
I went for a walk today through Central Park as the temperature dropped on Manhattan, thrilled to wear sweaters and scarves again. I stopped on a bench along the Mall, right across from the man who sells unique, vintage polaroids (his marketing, not mine), and read a book, my National Coffee Day coffee and bagel at my side. For the first time on this chilly morning, I felt connected to New York the way I felt connected to Paris—I was spotting the intricate architecture on 62nd heading west, the deep blue sky reminding me of the sunniest days in Aix.
I’ve written and re-written a post about leaving Paris about 20 times over the past four months and still haven’t found a good way to articulate it. Perhaps eventually the right story will hit me, but for now, I’m ready to pull out my sweaters and cozy up with my New York season.
*Yes, I have been waiting four months to quote You’ve Got Mail and currently plan to watch it on repeat until it’s time for Miracle on 34th Street.