Within a few minutes I will board my flight bound for Houston and leave New York City for the foreseeable future. It still hasn’t hit me that I will not be returning home to my apartment. I’ve done this little exercise countless times before and it just feels like one of my regular summer trips back to Texas - but this time it’s different.
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new york
Tonight I write from the living room of my (temporary) apartment in Queens. It’s well after midnight and the room is silent, save for the gentle hum of the refrigerator. The only things I have to keep me company tonight are my laptop and my trusted companion Murray (the sweet rattle snake mug on the right). I’ve spent the evening talking with my parents, filling them in on my week, and rehashing the same conversations about my travel plans - all in all a usual Sunday.
Sitting amongst the ruble that was once my NYC apartment, my roommate and I disassembled everything in preparation for this weekend when we have to move out for good. Since we've never stayed in an apartment for more than a year, the process of packing has become routine for us, but this time around it’s different: it marks the end of the "Costello Residence” and my life in NYC.
So here I am, six months out from swapping my life as a NYC consultant for one of a wandering nomad. The final countdown has begun, and while there are only 20 some-odd weeks left before my departure, I strangely do not feel nervous, scared, or sad. Instead I have an overwhelming sense of peace which I have not experienced in quite some time.
Like most people in modern NY society, I had an online dating profile. When I first set up the account, I took great pains to ensure my profile was filled out completely and spent hours answering a myriad of personality questions. Over the course of the next year, the account fell into disuse and slowly faded into obscurity before I finally pulled the plug on it.