Alright, yall. This post has to happen. It has to. The feels need lines. My life, over a lined loose leaf, hole-punched, types. Prompted? A little. Go.
I’m writing on the Uber to JFK. Lots of items got lost, left, in the last minute packing. Blankeys gone, knicknacks patty wacks gone, clothes from Austin, NY, Argentina, and office supplies to feed a small Brooklyn classroom: gone-zo.
What I’m taking for sure: passports; apostilled documents like birth certificate for the marriage and diploma for jobs; this phone I’m writing on, charger and power banks; two hats; jackets for interviews and to sweat in; my wedding suit; laptop, charger – god damn my nerves are killing me, my stomach knots and my head sweats – and I’m taking half a carry-on suitcase of books.
Keys to the apartment have been given, because I’m renting the bedroom to a wonderful archaeologist, who will work on civil war restoration (I understand). Enjoy your last summer in NY, you.
How do I feel? Ecstatic, like outside of home sweet home, headed sweetly new home bound. Nervous, like what if. Excited, like why not.
Meanwhile, this Uber inches its way through Brooklyn. Did you know JFK is in Queens? ETA, mine, no idea. But my flight is in three hours now. Rap plays, a line I hear: “I make millions, others make memes”. I might want to feel like this. But what lies ahead feels so much better. I won’t even try to be witty. Do you read these lines as the jabs be hitting me? Baby, baby, I’m coming to you.
Before that, what will I miss the most? The friends. Students. The confidence this city imbues you with. The end.
What will I not miss? This upside down stomach. The rude post office ladies. The shoulder to shoulder subway cars. The people who cough with their chin up, mouth uncovered as they walk on the sidewalk.
“It’s hard to stick around in the city”, says an ad on the radio. It targets New Yorkers who want a business loan.
What am I looking forward to? Baby, baby, you for you. Datorită baby I move. Hold me soon.
And then? What’s up: a weekend to move in and chill, a week to put in my face and handshake to work, next weekend to the hometown beachside. Between? SIM card, keep practicing limba română, discover.
ETA, ok, three minutes to terminal one, for Aeroflot to Bucharest via Moscow.