….So many of my NYC memories survive in my heart.

So many of these memories involved an accomplice. We didn’t know the day we emptied our savings account that we’d empty it again and again, or that we’d sign multiple leases, and move again and again. All we knew was that this city brought strangers together in small spaces without many words needed in exchange. It showed you who people were before they could tell you. It showed that connection was as big as the city, and loyalty was the shield that protected you from its engulfing characteristics. You had to be a good friend to get one; honesty got you further than you could imagine. You could live in a one-bedroom-converted-two, with no living room, on the 4th floor of a 6 story walk-up with no central air, no washer/dryer apartment… if you both always packed the truth with you.
All I can say is: within those leases were unwritten clauses that outlined life-long friendships.

And though we no longer share the same address, I always want to call her my roommate. This is Daria, and she’s kickin’ butt in NYC. She also happens to be a kick ass person. And I thank my Northern roots for giving me a friend like her… to fly to these Southern grounds.

So we can stop and reflect on the significance of sisterhood… to help me remember that as I type in the comfort of my very own apartment that I embarrassingly stood in an elevator for one floor, after parking in a garage, and damn cooking, walking about in gym pants, a la soundtrack of my dryer humming to me that success is immeasurable. All because my desk is by the window! This is what I described I wanted in many of our conversations, while we sat in a brick tree house on 75th St., New York, New York 10021. Where peace can grow and cockroaches might not know 😂

desk

Daria’s in a bigger place, too, inspiriting #DariaStrong training, and there’s a subway steps from her stoop.

Location, location, location. Strength training in trusting position.

I’m still commuting somewhere. Thinking of Manhattan fondly and all it gave me. I’m writing… roommate-less; “baby steps.” North Roots, Southern Grounds. (2/2)

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