Transitions are weird.
I've lived in my apartment in queens for almost 9 years now and it really has become my home. I basically grew up there and went through a billion roommates, 9/11, blackouts, holidays, blizzards and sweltering summers.
My mom was in town this week and kept walking around my neighborhood saying things like "Well, this is the last time I'll go to your queens apartment.","This is the last time I'll buy an ice coffee from the Brazilian people", and "This is the last time I'll say hi to the lady on the stoop".
Finally I had to tell her to stop cause it was making me think about my neighborhood, and how crazy it is that I know my neighbors in NYC. Most people live in their apartments and never come out. I walk down the street and see teenagers that used to be babies, old ladies that now sit alone after years of having their husbands by their sides, the weather man who always stands on the corner and tells me what the next day will bring...and I think about how it's going to be hard not to walk that block home at night.

But then I think, I'm moving to my new home, and I'm sure that this new home will have something different that will be hard to leave. Like a yard, and a tree, oh yeah...and it's got Caton.

And unlike my mother, I can always go back and get an ice coffee from the Brazilian lady on the corner.