I have so many questions but my main one is: how the hell did eight days fly by so quickly, huh? We woke up early today and just like every other morning this week, we opened our hotel blinds to reveal the weather of the day. Today, blue skies, bright sun and no cloud in sight. My heart is/was/will be heavy.
I can't explain why leaving was so hard. The last few days were utterly freezing. The type of cold that freezes your face the moment you come into contact with the outside air. The type that makes you bring HAND-WARMERS on your trip and squeeze them into your gloves so you can feel some kind of warmth on you as you walk. The type that has you ending up in every Starbucks on 8th ave. Some would say unpleasant. Many would be pleased to have their time and then leave. Yet here I am, in a yellow taxi, and the view of the Manhattan skyline is fading and I'm telling myself not to get emotional. What's with that?
For whatever reason, leaving New York City today felt like leaving home when you know it's going to be a long while before you're back. When you remember every part you love about your home and then at the same time, you feel very sad because you know it will be a long while before you do those things you love again. I couldn't shake the feeling.
Eight hours later, one plane ride and a four hour layover and I'm sitting in Long Beach airport and I still can't shake that feeling. I'm homesick, already.
(Photos by Arky, the braver of us two. Shot with his Fuji XT-1)