We have gotten rid of almost everything now. Every day I take about ten books down and place them in front fo the building and hope someone will take them. So far almost every book has “sold” I am thrilled not to have to throw them away but have been surprised at many of the books that have found new homes. Most of the novels seemed like good candidate, but who knew that books about Russian peasants in the 18th century, Kant’s Critique of Judgment, or really dry literary theory would be picked up as well.

Today I sat in my much emptied apartment and cried as if my first love had left me. I have lived in New York for some 15 years. I leave NY in the fall, the same season in which I arrived to go to Sarah Lawrence. I do want to go, so why does this feel so sad?

Yes, of course, because I fell in love with NY again--or more particularly my little corner of Brooklyn--we are moving.
Where?
Barcelona.
H is going to study… I am going to eat lots of Manchego.
Wine will be drunk.
It feels bittersweet.

I wonder if I will live as close to these pink arches as I do to Grand Army?

(Grand Army Plaza pic by WallyG.)

H has been less than excited with his work for awhile now. I have always wanted him to go back to get his doctorate—ironic considering how much I love getting mine, right? But we have also been talking about moving for a while.

So H and I have been saying it would be good to put my EU citizenship to use. He is suggesting England I prefer Spain, Italy, France or Austria. Of those I suspect only Spain is viable because of our rather limited linguistic abilities.

Should we go? I love the life we have built here. But I must say this is definitely not what I imagined my life would be at 35 . I have spent my entire adult life not only in the US but in one city—arguably the best city in the world, but it is just one place.

I came to NY to go to college and I have just stayed. I think I need a change. It seems so wasteful though to just let all we have built here go.