As my train entered New York City yesterday afternoon, I anticipated being overwhelmed with nostalgia, returning to my hometown, leaving Boston for the first time all semester. Viewing the New York City skyline left me feeling decidedly nothing. Struggling through Herald Square with my luggage in the cold left me frustrated. Walking down my old street, I was glad I wasn't emotional. My old apartment even looks different, which I think is helpful in keeping me emotionally distant. (Although my muscle memory keeps making me want to walk into the bedroom that used to be mine.)
It took me seeing the neon green spatula that's still in the cluttered drawer for me to feel anything.
Like a waterfall in slow motion, Part One
2 years ago
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment