I’m having haunted memories of driving my packed car, and my yowling cat, on the BQE under the Brooklyn Promenade, and learning that Harry Chapin had died, and knowing that my life as a New Yorker was over as well. And yet it was also the start of so much for me. You just can’t see it from the bleak promontory of an ending, with everything behind you and nothing but cliffs visible ahead. I popped Steely Dan’s greatest hits into the tape deck and kept going. The cat sang along.
This gave me all the feels. Beautiful. ❤️ I remember saying the same thing during my stint in New York, coming out of the subway and seeing the towers and knowing “that’s South”.
I love Ada’s writing and as someone suddenly thrust into living in New York (today marks one week) from Sonoma CA, this line hit me: “When I sit to write a poem, each time, I return in my mind to a place across the street from where I grew up in Glen Ellen, California where the Calabazas creek runs underneath Arnold Drive” - in California, that is the path where I walk my dog! I miss California but I love New York. I love California but when I’m there I miss New York. 30 years since I first moved out of Jersey and these two places have had my heart all along. Like I’m always in love with one and cheating on the other.
I’ve never lived in NYC, but my brother has so I’ve visited many times. It is one of my happy places, a place that feels like a dream, except that I occasionally wake up and it’s real. I can’t wait until my next trip. My brother just moved up north of the city after living in various parts of Manhattan for over 20 years, and I’m sure he would relate to this essay. ❤️🗽
My god I loved the pacing of this. It reminded me of leaving California. I started a secret blog when blogs were new, where I recorded the weeks up to leaving and the first year living in Montana where everything was so different. Leaving a place that has become a part of you makes you ache in a way that’s hard to describe, but this does so beautifully.
I’m having haunted memories of driving my packed car, and my yowling cat, on the BQE under the Brooklyn Promenade, and learning that Harry Chapin had died, and knowing that my life as a New Yorker was over as well. And yet it was also the start of so much for me. You just can’t see it from the bleak promontory of an ending, with everything behind you and nothing but cliffs visible ahead. I popped Steely Dan’s greatest hits into the tape deck and kept going. The cat sang along.
A portrait of nostalgia and the fear and love that's always part of that feeling.
A stunningly gorgeous love story.
This gave me all the feels. Beautiful. ❤️ I remember saying the same thing during my stint in New York, coming out of the subway and seeing the towers and knowing “that’s South”.
I love Ada’s writing and as someone suddenly thrust into living in New York (today marks one week) from Sonoma CA, this line hit me: “When I sit to write a poem, each time, I return in my mind to a place across the street from where I grew up in Glen Ellen, California where the Calabazas creek runs underneath Arnold Drive” - in California, that is the path where I walk my dog! I miss California but I love New York. I love California but when I’m there I miss New York. 30 years since I first moved out of Jersey and these two places have had my heart all along. Like I’m always in love with one and cheating on the other.
I’ve never lived in NYC, but my brother has so I’ve visited many times. It is one of my happy places, a place that feels like a dream, except that I occasionally wake up and it’s real. I can’t wait until my next trip. My brother just moved up north of the city after living in various parts of Manhattan for over 20 years, and I’m sure he would relate to this essay. ❤️🗽
My god I loved the pacing of this. It reminded me of leaving California. I started a secret blog when blogs were new, where I recorded the weeks up to leaving and the first year living in Montana where everything was so different. Leaving a place that has become a part of you makes you ache in a way that’s hard to describe, but this does so beautifully.
Ada, 11 True Things is some beautiful writing. I got tangled up in NYC just reading that post. Sounds like you owned your share.
So beautiful. By plugging in different locales and people it is exactly how I feel about leaving Los Angeles.
Wow, wow, wow. This is fantastic.
Beautiful writing. I related to this piece so much.
Beautiful writing - both nostalgic and present. Love it.
Beautiful writing. Makes me remember when my brother I moved away from home. He’s gone now.
Sorry to hear. <3
Gorgeous. I was in New York then and 9/11 has been so up for me in ash of the LA fires.
❤️❤️❤️
Love love love. New York is my city too.