New York I love you - hang in there

There is something sinister about New York. How can a city be so openly cruel and beautiful? Attractive and repulsive. It is cold, it is gross, it is merciless and I love it so much.

We both changed in our one year break. I got married, learned Spanish, search engine optimization and how to cook black beans on the hot pot.

She (he?) went through a bad place, got sick, empty and lonely. I heard she developed a support system and is facing its new normal with chaotic determination. It didn't miss me while I was gone. I thought about it every day.

Miami was sweet, festive, bubbly and a dangerous supporter of Brazilian waxing and shopping sprees. As lovely as it was, we were not meant to be. My heart is New Yorkish and I find myself in a hot, sticky ghost-town dreaming about my home.

I look out the window to the blue floridian sky and down, at the few half-naked youngsters running on the pavement, mask-free, amongst their frightenend elderly counterparts. I look at Miami, and tell it that its beach-body obsession is getting a little out of hand. We are in a pandemic and some parts of you are acting like NOTHING IS HAPPENING!

Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell, Miami. I guess, I’m just shaken. irresponsibilities apart, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just - I’m maybe… maybe just resenting you because you are not her. I love your food though. You are an amazing cook. And the Spanglish you speak is delicious to listen to. I could hear it forever.

But we don’t have forever, Miami. This new crisis made me aware of my mortality and I know New York brings me down sometimes, but I got to be there.

But where is there exactly? The crowded bars? The street-filled madness so alive it ruins me from the inside like the smile of a gorgeous girl might not be there when we come back next month.

My hope is that something will be there. The city has a spirit and it survives.

Hang in there New York. We are coming and I smile remembering how you will not care at all.