Hello New York.

Maybe it was the balding black guy with yellow teeth screaming in my ear as I walked past, that Jesus would be coming back and what are you doing to repent?

Maybe it was the rush of fashion and comfort, with hello nipples everywhere.

Or maybe, it was just the steamy, arid breath of Manhattan as it forced its way back into my lungs, like a long-lost lover who needs to drink every breath in again.

I walk slower this time, taking in the stained glass art in the walls of the tunnels beneath Times Square. I watch men in suits and briefcases and boys in polos and jeans, flipped and shaded. I listen to the subway announcement, the loud ding of “The doors are now closing” more quixotically poetic than I thought those words ever could be. People rushing to work, to lunch dates, to meetings; this is life in the fast lane again. I once lived like this too.

The RW line has been updated. This is new, I think, as I watch a commercial on the train. I remember the last time I took it was with GDB, on one of our last dates before we left New York. Pangs of nostalgia hit me, for the love we didn’t know we had then, and the love we soon will watch fade away. People still hurry about with ipods clashing discordantly, songs in their ears to ignore the music of New York. The streets are still far too crowded, with pedestrians, SUVs, and the standard yellow taxi. But there’s a rhythm here that congas its way back into my veins.

I wonder, how did I ignore you for so long? And more importantly, how did I ever leave you?

Will I forget your tune, when I too become one of the masses, rushing to work, to class, to the gym? Will I forget to breathe your noxious and intoxicating air in, so consumed with my self-worth and reality? Or will this time spent away remind me to love the drop of water from scaffolding above, unexpectedly plinking the street?

Hello New York. I’m home.