I’m spending this week living my old life.
A conference has brought me to my former home.
I packed in anticipation of seeing my friends and co-workers, sitting at my old desk and paying favorite restaurants and bars a visit.
The first thing I noticed was the familiarity.
Everything was familiar.
The stomach drop was the same as we avoided an “unlikely” water landing at LaGuardia airport. The level of inappropriate aggression in the taxi line immediately brought me back (no lady, I didn’t cut you). The part of the island where I used to live looked (and smelled) the same. The guy who fixed my shoes smiled and waved as if no time had passed.
I hit all my favorite hot-spots.
I paid my juice-making friends at the little bodega near the World Trade Center a visit, sat outside with friends in the warm sunshine by the Hudson and cocktail-ed on my favorite rooftop.
Over the past few days, I have seamlessly slipped into old routines and caught up with friends who made my life whole on this island.
Its made me reflect on the lives we build for ourselves and the communities we create regardless of city size.
Like an old friend, New York City and I picked up where we left off without skipping a beat.
Good times old friend.