Brooklyn.

After much anticipation, I'm finally here.  And it's everything and nothing I imagined it would be.

At first, as I walked to the apartment I'd be calling home for a little, I had this longing for familiar things.  Parking my car in the garage.  Being greeted by my red couch.  My neighbor's screaming kids.  I started to doubt what I was doing.  What I had intended to do.  And I started wishing that my stopover in DC wasn't so brief.  I started to miss my godfather's Italian history lessons (which I have to share one day), and my godmother's cooking.  It's amazing how we could be attached to something (someones) in such a brief time.

But, after spending an entire day in Manhattan, I came back to the apartment, sat on the couch, with a mug of hot chocolate in hand, and I felt it.  That feeling of certainty.  That I did the right thing.  By coming here.  To write.  Although honestly, I haven't done that much writing.  But, I've memorized the stops on the F train to downtown Brooklyn, and have gotten lost several dozen times in the city.  I've strolled through Central Park, Bryant Park, Washington Square Park, Prospect Park.  I've walked over the Brooklyn Bridge, and sat and pondered across City Hall.  

And last night I met up with a new friend for dinner.  Shared with her my adventures since arriving here, my plans and ideas, and she said, you're no longer a tourist.  New York suits you.   

As we walked around Greenwich Village, I stopped missing L.A.  And afterwards, on the subway back to Brooklyn, I thought, why didn't I do this before?  Then, I remembered why.  And I realized, as much as I beat myself up for it, I wasn't ready before.  And so, I couldn't do it.

But now I am.            

Come check out the neighborhood with me:

St. Agnes Church up the street from the apartment.

View from Union Street Bridge.