Two years and ten months ago, an early twenty-something lady moved to a neighborhood that she grew to call home. It was the first place in her twenty-three years of life where the feeling of longing to move away vanished. She was happy with her apartment. It was her first real grown-up living space with matching furniture and a full set of dishes.
The first few months she would become familiar with her surroundings, and go on walks here and there. She was in the city, but her neighborhood was truly a world of its own.
This lady grew here. She felt comfortable. She let go of insecurities. She fell in love. She even perfected her ability to parallel park.
In two years and ten months, relationships came and went, restaurants opened and closed. All of it was part of the normal flow of life. And with this flow, a move was in order.
The young lady is now crossing the river, a move only a few miles away. Yet she becomes reminiscent of her time spent in this neighborhood walking its sidewalks late at night admiring houses, laughing for hours with friends, loving people, shedding tears, and creating herself into the person she has always wanted to be.
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