August 26, 2008

One-year NYC anniversary

I'm writing in my old bedroom with the pink and white stripes on the walls. I can hear a child outside dribbling a basketball on the concrete and a few people talking, the television downstairs and crickets in the summer grass.

I miss the ambulance sirens and garbage trucks revving outside my window.

One full year has passed. New York, once a scary vision of cabs and prostitutes and deadlines and excitement, has become my second home.

Pride wells up a little when I realize that I'm alive.

The last day of my summer employment was move-in day in NYU's Brooklyn dorm. I saw so much of my former self in every one of the wide-eyed newbies who came to pick up their keys, asking frantically if the subway stopped nearby.

But that's not me anymore. In fact, the quiet of my parent's home is unsettling at times. The din of the city, which I so often remember hating at first, has become my life's soundtrack, and I think I'm really starting to belong there.

However, the next step in this journey -- the second year -- when I try to actually make it financially after college, lies dauntingly ahead.

I begin my final semester at NYU in a week. I have an internship at PBS this fall. There's more than enough to do with a final documentary project to produce, a job to find, a place to live in December and a great many other things that are likely to crop up.

But I learned one thing for sure in New York this year: I learned to be patient in all things. The lights finally come down the subway track. That phone rings. And the world makes sense again.

Posted by Amanda Cochran at August 26, 2008 6:53 PM | TrackBack
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