I feel lucky

Four months later, it still happens.

Sometimes it’s when I’m leaving the office for the night, and I’m surrounded by skyscrapers gleaming against an early evening sky. Or taking a cab across the Williamsburg Bridge.

But more mundane moments do it too. Like riding the subway…

Or noticing my coffee cup’s Brooklyn, NY stamp.

Or looking up at the light-up sign showing the subway’s east-west progress.

That’s when it hits me: I live here. I’m not visiting.

New York City is home again.

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