Note - I wrote this in the spring right before we moved up here, but never posted it on the blog. I discovered it ironically just now while debating if I should write something about how lonely it is to move to a new place as an introvert, and I'm sitting here with an up-stir of all these feelings. So here goes, a memory from spring 2016, un-edited...
This is a word I’m hearing a lot lately. Mostly from the people around me when describing our move. We are moving from the Upper West Side of Manhattan, NYC to the coast of Maine. Downeast, they call it. It’s pretty much the most beautiful place on earth.
For our family Maine offers opportunity, space, happiness, and a plan for the future.
So this city girl will be leaving home to move to the country. Bittersweet.
NYC has been my home for almost 40 years. Born here. Raised here when there was still danger, excitement, artists, and grit.
I will miss everything and everyone. But I already miss the New York I know. I wonder if it will be here when I come back to visit.
Alas, my heart is in Maine. I feel it swell every time I cross the border. Every time I drive down a hill and a view opens up to distant mountains rising out of flat blue waters. Every time I’m in awe of nature expressing her colors.
So I’m leaving what I know best, my friends, landmarks, how to ride the subway, and most of all the ability to say “I live in New York City”
My daughter will experience childhood in a way I never did. Getting picked up by a school bus, knowing everyone in town, back yards, penny candy, nature, visiting the big city.
Thanks to the internet and social media I feel like I will be able to stay connected to my New York people, and we are already planning visits. But am I distancing myself from them in more ways than physically? Am I losing the New Yorker part of myself by leaving? I wonder if all expat New Yorkers have felt this way.
The truth is, thinking about a life on Mount Desert Island, makes my heart soar and I am counting the seconds until I can cross that Maine border again. But I’m worried that I’m so immersed in the excitement and happiness of what I’m beginning that I’m not truly feeling what is ending.
With a lump in my throat, I’ll say the word… bittersweet.