Blogs away!

New Yorkers who don’t take silent retreats in monasteries or marinate their innards in citrus and lemon pepper still have at least one cyclical way of evaluating their lives: moving. The decision to renew or cut ties is a natural way for millions of us to take stock.

A year ago I moved to Brooklyn. I was newly single and my life was in chaos. Thanks to bedbugs I’d been sleeping on a mattress pad on the floor for four months. I was unhappy but I recognized an opportunity for change. I left Manhattan after six years. I found an apartment where I had room to stretch out. I looked like hipster gentrification personified, so I’m not sure how my new neighbors felt about me. A friend talked me into joining a dating site, and that paid off quickly: I had to admit to myself that I was somewhat interesting and perhaps fun.

And then I fell in love. It was faster and truer than I expected, but I wasn’t totally surprised. By January I was rarely in my big new place. In May I got out of my lease and moved in with my girlfriend. Along the way I somehow accomplished a lot: I lost weight, made progress on my novel, and my family’s charity raised tens of thousands of dollars.

That’s one year. I don’t know what my life will look like a year from now, but I expect to have a lot of joy to reflect on.

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