Our time together has come to a close.

In a spot of personal news, RBD and I are moving back into the city. “What ‘city’,” you may ask? There is only one in this country worth opining over. It’s that one.

It’s difficult to say why I feel so strongly about Manhattan. Objectively, it’s just an overcrowded and expensive island where rats and cockroaches outnumber humans by a chilling margin. In summer, the smell is not pleasant. Poor choices years ago condemned thousands of mentally ill to wander the streets, stumbling in and out of crisis. Yet here we are. Me not quite finished with school, uprooting our lives because I hate Brooklyn. I hesitate to even use the word hate, only because it does not fully capture the intensity of my loathing.

Obviously, logic has left the equation. Millions of normal, smart people live here without emotional duress. They like it. How I cannot fathom. Originally, I had wanted to do a whole series on Brooklyn to go along with PA school. I planned to explore its expansive history, vibrant food scene, beautiful architecture, rich culture, and unique geological features. I even bought a book about Brooklyn. Turns out I absolutely do not care.

Moving to Manhattan was the first big life goal I chose and accomplished. I was 15, and moved there six years later with no steady job and a finite amount of money. No Plan B, either. I have never left. Well … except for this ill-fated rumspringa.

I remember walking up West End Avenue a few months after moving in 2002, taking in my surroundings. A singular thought bubbled up from the depths of my 22-year-old brain:

It’s good to be back.

I had just arrived months prior, so it made no sense. It still doesn’t make sense unless you believe in previous lives, which I do not. If I did, I would have to conclude that maybe I have spent other lifetimes on that cockroach-infested island. That maybe it is where I have belonged since before my current iteration. I have lived in Manhattan for the majority of my life now. Have I lived there for a majority of other lives too?

I ponder these things. Or, at least I would, if I believed in any of it. One day, after this farce of an existence has concluded, I hope the reasoning behind all this emotional angst will become clear. Until then, you know where to find me. Back where I apparently belong, somewhere between West End Avenue and the part of my lizard brain that refuses to leave.

We will meet again in Fall. Mom and I are planning a “Mega Trip”—her words—to celebrate her 80th birthday. I will not be able to do daily posts because I will have school obligations while traveling. I sit for the PANCE (Physician Assistant National Certifying Exam) on December 18th. Instead, I’ll do a recap and a series of essays in October after we return. Then, in the run-up to graduation, I’ll do a 10-day series on my rotations. You won’t want to miss that. Health care in the U.S. is the best in the world, right?

Thank you for coming along on this trip. I always appreciate your notes and texts. I am grateful you all allow me to share my creativity with you.

Have a lovely summer full of long nights, adventure, and community. I, meanwhile, will be locked in a hospital finishing my rotations. The final boss is in sight.

From Delta 1529, out of New Orleans, we are cleared for departure on Runway 1 1, headed for home. Until we meet again, be well.