I just got home from my last subway ride as a New York City resident, and I’m filled with all kinds of emotions about it. I’m starting as an Assistant Professor of Literacy Education at SUNY New Paltz next week — a job I first dreamed of having over ten years ago when I started teaching education courses part-time. I am so excited about this change, and about moving to the Hudson Valley, a place I knew well as a child from frequent visits to my Oma, my grandmother. We would knit and crochet side by side, and she would say that the Catskills reminded her of the mountains back in Germany. She passed on a few years ago now, but she would be happy to know that I’m moving to a place she called home for years. Which brings me to the main point of this post: an opportunity to bid New York City, the place I have called home since 1999, farewell.
I know I’m not moving that far — New Paltz is only an hour and a half away by bus, and I’ll probably see friends as often as I did while living in the city, but there are certain things that I’ll miss about it. I’ll miss the iced hibiscus tea at the coffee shop across the street in summer; bike lanes everywhere; that moment of affectionate eye contact when you see someone familiar on a bike path; that guy who sings Beatles songs in the tunnel between the F/M and 1/2/3 trains at 14th Street; seeking out spots for photo shoots for my knitwear project, Brooker Hollow, (like the one pictured); the subway (okay, I’ll also not miss the subway); the amazing musicians and street performers throughout the MTA system (especially the tap dancers); huge spontaneous protests (and the more organized ones, too); feeling connected to millions of other New Yorkers, even though we will largely remain anonymous to one another; the food; the singing man in Williamsburg…
The list could go on. I’m going to miss it here, period. But I’m about to start a new chapter, and am completely ready for it to begin.