We knew we would be moving back to New York this fall. This Seattle thing was always temporary. I didn’t mind giving up the bi-coastal living arrangement for a spell because I knew it would be for less than a year, and truth be told I don’t care how many celebrities do it, bi-coastal living is just plain hard. In a million different ways. That 13 hour trip door to door became more and more difficult with each flight. So I didn’t minod giving up NYC for a year. But I’ve also missed Manhattan living more than I thought I would. At the same time, I’ve enjoyed living here. Big house. Plenty of land. I have an axe to chop wood and a hunting knife I wear on my belt, a grill, a woodworking bench, a killer bow and arrow set and archery target, a creek and a hot tub, more rooms and bathrooms than we know what to do with honestly, my own recording studio, a game room and yeah even a media-viewing room with an automatic remote controlled large movie projector screen. Our master bedroom is larger than our New York living room; our shower has two shower heads — one for each of us, and a separate bathtub; our walk in closet is about the size of your average New York bedroom. It’s been a blast re-experiencing what house living is like after ten years cooped up in a tiny apt in New York. But with all the amenities it still doesn’t replace city living. Walking straight out of your front door into a thriving metropolis filled with other people and activities and life in full color.
After much talk and thought and brainstorming we decided that it just wouldn’t make any sense to keep this place once we make the move. So we need to start paring down all of the things we’ve collected over the years. Furniture and knick knacks, all the outdoor stuff, the pool table. Hell, even our beloved ping pong table must go. To live in New York City you have to be willing to live with the bare minimum of belongings. Just the two of us and two dogs; new babies if we ever get so lucky. You give up a lot to live in the city. We’ll keep about one-tenth of the things we own if we’re lucky. Probably less.
Ever since we made the decision, I’ve noticed myself paying more attention to everything. To every little thing. Just now I noticed – perhaps for the first time? – the sound that the rain makes falling on the bay window over the kitchen sink. What a loud but pleasant sound it is. Comforting and soothing. In the pitch blackness of night you can almost always spot the white glow of the moon through the skylight that’s raised over our showers. It just sits there shining this magnificent natural light into the bathroom like a beacon or reminder that it’s the middle of night and everyone in the world is fast asleeP, even if it’s an illusion.
I’ll miss these things. And so many more. I’ll miss this grand palace we’ve learned to call home. Each of us grown so accustomed to feeling home here, to making it our home. Watching the moon set and the sun rise over the Cascade Mountain Range every morning from the eastern facing window in our large spacious office. The giant three car garage filled with abandoned kids toys and soccer balls and old stored belongings you can’t quite say goodbye to yet that seems to whisper “you made it. You’re living the American Dream…” Our backyard with its National Wildlife Federation Landmark status, giant evergreens, wild raspberry bushes and vegetable garden. The giant entranceway with its two large front doors that we decorate accordingly during each holiday season as everyone does who lives in suburban America. It’s been special living here. But at great cost to my career. I know that. It was a sacrifice I was willing to make for Princee’s kids.
But it’s coming to an end now. It’s time to get back to the city and leave our little utopian paradise to someone else. We know that. But It doesn’t make it any easier. Even the constant beckoning of the city and all it’s promise of fun culture adventure and glory still doesn’t soften the heartache as I walk each room taking pictures of things we need to start selling if we’re ever going to get out of here. Nope. This house has been home to us for over four years now. Every nook and cranny of it. Every piece of furniture. Sitting huddled up on a sheepskin rug by the fireplace when we lose power or just for the pure romance and fun of it. Feeling like the man of the house in the traditional sense –going around with my tool belt changing light bulbs and smoke alarm batteries, cleaning out the septic tank. Playing house in a way you just can’t in the city.
Sure these memories will be fond and at the same time seem almost quaint once we’re settled back in Manhattan. I’ve lived long enough to be aware of that by now. New York has a way of sucking you into it pretty quickly. With its whirlwind of excitement and adventure. Besides, home is never WHERE you live as much as WHO you’re living with. As long as I’m with Princess Little Tree I’ll feel at home soon enough. But it’s going to be A strange transition. We’ve gotten used to this slow lazy family centered lifestyle. Home cooked meals sitting around this large oak table and family movie nights. A far cry from the wild nights and hustle and bustle of New York living.
Part of me is giddy inside, already screaming “yay!!! Let’s go already!!!” and a part of me feels sad and homesick for this place and it’s numerous amenities, wondering if it’s really worth it, this big move to the small confines of a tiny apartment in a noisy crowded city… It’s ambivalence I suppose. But a good kind. A healthy kind. Everyday people are faced with much worse choices they have to choose between than these. I know that. Though in the moment I still feel a little pinch of sadness every time we list another beloved item for sale on Craig’s List or eBay.
As always more later…
– Posted by The Ambassador using BlogPress on an iPhone 8s Custom