It finally happened. I had a sneaking suspicion it would, but I was secretly hoping it wouldn’t. I had a moment of truly missing Manhattan this afternoon. Sure, I go into Manhattan almost every day for work, but I’m so focused on getting to work on time, then getting home at a reasonable hour that I don’t really ponder the fact that I no longer live in the same borough where I work. I have been a resident of Brooklyn for two weeks and two days now. It hasn’t really sunk in yet. I left Manhattan. I left my island.
I spent part of the afternoon having lunch with my friend at her at apartment on the Upper West Side. She lives on the 41st floor of her building with spectacular views of Manhattan. I looked out the panoramic windows in her living room at the buildings that make up what used to be my home and started to feel twinges of homesickness. “Did I really leave this?” I started asking myself. “Why?” We settled onto her balcony for lunch and I was instantly struck by how loud it was. I had never noticed the noise before. I realized that as quickly as I had grown accustomed to the constant white noise of traffic and city sounds I had also become accustomed to the quiet of my new neighborhood in Brooklyn. I have not yet adjusted to the fact that everything moves at a slower pace in Brooklyn and I can hear the wind rustling the trees in the backyard below me at night.
I miss Manhattan. There. I said it. I am a little homesick. I miss the stuff I loved about my little island (I seem to have completely forgotten the stuff the I hated). I love the spaciousness of my new apartment. I love the quiet (I think). I love the less frenetic energy of Brooklyn (for the most part). I love being closer to certain friends. Mostly though, I feel confused. I feel like I have landed in an alternate universe. I feel out of my element. I feel hesitant to fully embrace my new neighborhood. I still feel like a Manhattanite, and yet I now live in Brooklyn. I am an islander who doesn’t know what to do with herself on the mainland.