i have a huge crush on this city that started in my preteens and only gets bigger in my twenties.
for some people it’s London, Oxford, Rome, Amsterdam, Vancouver, Toronto, Boston, LA or Paris… but i visited them all and lived in some of them and none of them gave me the same thrill. there are so many things i love about New York, even the stuff most people hate: the feeling of belonging even if you don’t fit in anywhere else; the life that pulses in the streets; the kitsch and the consumerism all mixed up with true creativity and elitism; every apartment squeezed between so many others, squished in the basement or teetering on top somewhere with its rooftop the closest thing to a garden; the slime and grime underground and in the gutters; the river of faces and languages on the subway cars and sidewalks; the history of greed and capitalism and pursuit of money; the constant stream of music blasted out of windows in summer; the overflow of people reading and talking in coffee shops and restaurants on every corner because people just love to get out; feeling like you’re safe even if there are thugs downstairs because someone is watching you (even if they won’t help you when you’re in need); the world of fashion; the brick buildings and old fire escapes; the sense that the real heart of the place beats with the dreams of immigrants; and so much more…
i grew up reading novels set in New York. i fell in love with her through books. our yearly visits from my preteen years, through my teenage years, and into my college years only meant i fell deeper in love. so, when i cross her bridges and travel from station to station, i feel like i am inhabiting a world of stories and memories roaming around: the children of Chaim Potok, Mark Helprin, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Madeleine L’Engle, Betty Smith, and Claire Messud playing with the girl i used to be in the parks and playgrounds of New York. my favourite movies are set in New York and many of my favourite poets and musicians found themselves in New York. i remember each stage of my life in terms of the person i was every year when we visited New York as a family, and the marked change when i started going by myself. it just seems like the center of the world, and now my favourite person in the world, my sister, is living there for the summer.
i am still a visitor, and maybe one day i’ll live there and the magic of her will fade through the lenses of daily dreariness - but most people i know who live there want to stay there forever. and having moved so often, what i do know about moving to a new place is that once you get over the honeymoon stage, love usually grows through daily dreariness until the past is a well of time that you draw from when the future looks bleak. real love for a place comes with knowing it like the back of your hand. being at home is all about familiarity. so i don’t see why living in New York would mean losing my love for her. it’s like assuming that marriage will extinguish the sparks of a love affair. if you really just want sparks, life might be bright, but it will always be cold, and one day you’ll die alone in a sad corner. why not light the fire and keep it burning for as long as you can?
honestly, i love a lot of places. but i’ve never had a crush on a place like the crush i have on New York. maybe it will stay a crush, or, maybe, it will become a love story.
