It has been nearly a year since H1 and I moved uptown. I knew this, of course, but the fact really hit home the other day, when I walked south along the Hudson River. It was another beautiful spring day, and the fields were full of children playing baseball, just as they were a little over a year ago when we first started looking for a place on the Upper West Side.
Back then we were coming uptown almost every weekend, just wandering the streets, making sure that we would definitely be happy in the neighbourhood. We would catch the subway, and time how long it took us to get to other parts of the city. We would eat in the local restaurants. We would walk through the parks. We would go to open homes, of course.
A year later, we couldn't be happier with where we are. We say so to each other frequently. Our little apartment is our sanctuary, full of photos and art and memories and happiness. Our favourite local restaurants are reliably amazing. We see the same people out and about, and we talk to the same cashiers in our small local market, and while those people don't say hi and the cashiers are almost never friendly*, all of this lends itself to that perfect, indescribable feeling of being safe and being loved and knowing you are exactly where you belong.
*It's idyllic, but it's still Manhattan, after all.