My other birthday

When I first moved to NYC my roommate explained that people in NYC have two birthdays: the day they were born and the day they moved to the Big Apple. She said that transplants to the city will celebrate their New York birthday with friends more often than their real birthday.

Apparently I didn’t have a life until I moved to New York City on Saturday June 2^nd, 2012. Since I’m not planning to be a full time resident of NYC, I wonder what I’ll call the day I move back to the DC area in September. My death day? Silly, the whole thing is slightly silly.

But I have to say this summer in NYC has been beautiful. As silly as it sounds, it has brought life back into me. There has been something about it that I can’t quite pinpoint. I think it has something to do with the time I’ve been able to spend with my brothers and sister in law, the inspiring theater I’ve seen on and off Broadway, and all the yoga classes I’ve attended for myself (rather than for my teacher training). I have spent many solitary hours exploring the city and re-found a curiosity for life that feels reminiscent of my travels in India. I suspect it all has a lot to do with this foreign thing called “unstructured time,” evening hours and weekends that I haven’t been able to fill and fill and fill with all the busyness I found in DC. It has been a beautiful summer of renewal.

I’ve debated and debated about starting up this blog since moving here. My birth in NYC brought a return of an itch for creative writing. But what is the point of posting it on a blog for all to see? While I haven’t figured out that answer, I do know my mom still reads my blog and would love to see new posts. So here’s to you Mom—thanks for your part in my first birthday and your support through my second (love you!). And let the blogging begin (again).