A Love Letter to New York

I've always been enraptured by New York City.

I was eight years old when I first visited. This was the first time anyone in my family had gone to Manhattan, so we did as all tourists do: spending an afternoon exploring the egregious Times Square and its many supersized stores, taking the ferry to the Statue of Liberty, seeing a Broadway show, and paying way too much for a brief carriage ride through Central Park.

Since then I've found my way back many times––again with my family almost ten years later, during the holiday season, for a friend's birthday weekend, and one of my more controversial times: early March 2020 for spring break with two of my best friends, pre-national shutdown. It was this visit as a type-A nineteen-year-old who loves to plan her life out years in advance [or at least try!] that I knew I would one day make my way back to New York for good.

During the summer of 2021, I had the opportunity to return to New York once again. I spent a month and a half living in a teeny 100 square foot room and loved every minute of it. It really didn't feel real until I was on the plane, miles above the ground. [Note: I have the unique ability to fall asleep absolutely anywhere at any time, especially on planes––I am usually out before takeoff!––but this time I was high off the excitement of what lies ahead and watched the clouds outside my window the entire flight.] Six weeks later I slept the whole way home.

While each time I have visited the city my eyes have opened wider to the realities of New York, I can't help but fall in love with it more and more. The architecture, the people, the energy, and the opportunities that await are truly special. I know I am meant to join the hustle and bustle and hope to be there soon––it's up to you, New York.