I heard Billy Joel on my way home from work tonight and it was most apropos, since I am indeed in a New York state of mind. I am off to the Big Apple tomorrow—alone—mind you, for a baby shower my little sissy-poo-poo is throwing.
There is something about going home to the house you grew up in, where your mom still takes care of you, that almost freezes life for a moment in time. Just for that brief moment you are young, innocent, naïve, hopeful, happy. There are no cares save for indulging in the love of family and friends, and feeding nostalgia. I'm sure much of this lay in the fact that I have no one depending on me, but I think it just feels very strong to me because I always grieved for the life I gave up to stay in Massachusetts. I swear I am obsessed with the road not taken sometimes. Not as much anymore, but still the feelings are there and come back strong when they have the chance to present themselves. I know that if I lived in the area full time the magic and novelty would wear off. (I know my sister would be thrilled because she'd have someone else to entertain and distract mommy and daddy. She tells me this often.)
Anyway, for the next 48 hours I get to be a free spirit. I can eat when and what I want, come and go as I please, stay up late, sleep in, and visit with some of the best friends a girl could ever have.
I'll have a full report of the frivolity when I get back. Hee. If anyone reading this is in NYC and wants to hang, give me a buzz. 1-800-GO-TOOTS. rofl!