Not-Goodbye Letter ~ By Saida

Photography by Michelle

I was stuck on the wrong train my last night in New York City. Somewhere between Union Square and Queens, my local train decided to run express. Of course, it passed my stop. And it would be an hour before the train I needed came. No matter that it was one in the morning and I had to be up in four hours. Or that I still had to finish packing my last five years into two suitcases. But the MTA didn’t care about that.

I won’t miss the train delays and weekend service changes. Or the panhandlers that seemed to be in full force in the weeks leading up to my departure. I won’t miss the parents exploiting their children for the sympathy of strangers. Or the random pungent odors I could never quite identify.

I’ll miss the music though.

I’ll miss being serenaded by the countless talented people busking in train stations and on street corners. I’ll miss the conversations with strangers curious about what I’m reading in the Starbucks on 23^rd and 6th. 

I’ll miss my barista guy, Michael, the long ride to Coney Island, and walking in Rockefeller Park. I’ll miss the gruyere cheese omelet at Jane. The cornbread from Southern Hospitality. Red velvet cupcakes from Sprinkles. Organic cookies from that place in SoHo whose name I can never remember. I’ll miss poetry at the Nuyorican and literary readings at KGB.

I’ll miss the Fall. Seasons in general. Pumpkin spice lattes. That Brazilian place in Astoria. Thrifting. Fort Greene. Iced green tea from Panera. The Strand. The High Line. I’ll miss the sense of urgency in the air. I’ll miss the culture. I’ll miss the people.

Some things go without saying. I’ll miss my church, the innumerable people that have touched my life in a city where they have a reputation for being callous. I’ll miss the dreamers. I’ll miss hearing their plans to change the world.

I’ll miss customer service. Lord knows it is lacking on my island.

Mostly, I think I’ll miss being able to go to these places, see these people. I can’t take the train to Earl’s or Blair’s anymore. I can’t stay up all night at Jackie and Geci’s, or go on dates with my Nandi-kins. I’m going to have to miss that trip to the Poconos. I can’t meet Sarah or Michelle or Lindsey for coffee. I can’t make those plans.

But I can keep in touch. I can make new plans, find new places. I can get lost in new bookstores, and strike up conversations with new people and even some old ones.

I can drive to my Mom’s and my sister’s and my grandmother’s. I can annoy my little brother and my cousins. I can get a job. There’s no rush on my island. Not for anything.

But I have New York to thank for a lot of things. I am not the person I was five years ago because of that city. I’ll always be a New Yorker. Even 3,000 miles away. I’m sure I’ll be back, a week from today or five years from now, or at some point in the future.

So this is not goodbye, New York. I’ll talk to you soon.