It is feeling good to be in New York. It used to be my home. At one point in my life, I was sure I would never live anywhere else.
As it happens, I have a growing family in New York. Not only does our new granddaughter live here, but our youngest daughter, Robin, is interviewing for jobs in New York, and most likely will be moving very soon.
So I am being tugged back here. I expect to be visiting frequently.
But as I deal with the incessant, nervous energy of the city, and the dirt, and the lack of green, I can now say, with so many others, “It’s a great place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there.”
Already, I am figuring out how to get Juna to Richmond. I want her to know the beauty of my home, to revel in the James as much as the Hudson, to giggle in her heart as she sees thousands of dogwoods and redbud in bloom, not to mention the profusion of crepe myrtle, and maybe most of all just to let her soul feel the power and joy of the green everywhere.
I am beginning to think I have the best of the world: living in Richmond and having good reasons to visit New York.