I had this same feeling back in 2003. It was a sad feeling knowing that things would never be the same. It was when I left for college fairly aware and conscious of the future. I was sad to leave even though six months prior I had told my parents that I’d had enough of Merrick and was totally content with living in the Gateway Inn on Sunrise Highway. But I knew, sadly, my days in this life and with these people were numbered, and so I stayed on Grace Ave until September (not that my parents wouldn’t let me move to that seedy hotel anyway).
I had this same sad feeling in 2007, the day I moved out of my triplex of Gold Street in NYC. Roe, fittingly, was vomiting on the sidewalk as my Dad rolled up to move me and my roomie back to my childhood home on Grace Ave. Although we had only lived on Gold Street for two years, we’d built so much history there. I’ll never forget the early mornings skipping over dead rat carcasses because our block was so narrow the garbage trucks had no choice but to destroy anything in their way. It was always like the Gettysburg battle field for tiny rodents, and we were mostly too hungover to mourn the little creatures, so we thoughtlessly hopped over them, sort of like the game Frogger.
But I never thought I’d cry the time we moved back out of Merrick and ready to embark on full-fledged adulthood. Our main goal those two years was to get back to Manhattan, so it struck me that I felt such sorrow. I mourned the separation from my mom and brother, the sweet life we had, the stability and the friendship. It wasn’t just about Sex and the City, it was because we were Sex and the City. It was so special, those two years, a new experience at a familiar place but with a new group. And in that moment only I also realized the true meaning of the saying “you can’t go home” — because I never did.
And the reason I am spewing all these tails of loss and past and memory is because last night I sat at the bar with my two colleagues, my friends, laughing uncontrollably. I laughed so hard I realized I might actually have abs underneath this belly which has become unrecognizable from excess Mac and cheese. We laughed so hard about things I can’t write because of the inappropriate nature, which is pretty much the norm for us. Similar to when I left for college, I realized things will never be the same. Us three will never be here again, in the same situation we are now, talking about the same old things (people) we are at this moment. And I cried because I love us and I love this and I’ll miss this.
It’s sadly sweet to look to the past with such fondness. And I equally look to the future with excitement and fervor, knowing that the future holds moments that I will one day look back on with the same sweet sadness.