Almost ten years ago, my mom and I began to sing this song around the house. It was a way to express my excitement about visiting the world-renowned New York City for the first time (I was visiting a college I got accepted to) and my mom’s way of supporting said visit.
We only knew two lines–New York, New York–but we would sing them like we were singing at The Grammys. As my love of NYC faded, the song ceased to be sung.
Now that my visit to The Big Apple comes to a close, I find that the song is coming back to me. I’m happy (and relieved) that I still love NYC as a tourist even though I didn’t love it as a resident.
Over the years, I’ve compared NYC to being in a romantic relationship. I’m not the only one. It was my crush, my boyfriend, the fiance I couldn’t really see myself marrying for a lifetime, and, finally, the ex. Now it’s my part-time lover.
In the next few posts I will discuss what my part-time lover and I did together. It was low-key, filled with food, and the comfortable love that comes with communing with people you care about.
It was the stuff that myths are made of.
It was New York.