There’s a point on Route 46 East in New Jersey where you hit the top of a small hill and get your first glimpse of the New York City skyline.
Every single time, this drive makes my heart ache.
I remember being a little girl and visiting my Aunt Mar in Parsippany with my mother and grandmother. Sometimes we’d leave her apartment and go into the city for a few hours or two stay the night.
Later, the view meant that I was returning home after a visit to my family in Scranton.
For ten years, while I lived in DC, I didn’t see that view very often. Which is probably why that glimpse of skyline still feels like a gift a year and a half after making my return.
The leaving made the return sweeter.
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