It’s been a while since I’ve lived in Brooklyn.
My main Williamsburg petsitting client moved to Berlin (although we are still in touch and heading to watch her dog Thunder there in 3 days over Thanksgiving break!) and the other one we learned was spying on us with a webcam, which they only let us know about after we spent days walking around naked. Such creepy people. We have not been back, despite their asking.
Being back in Brooklyn, watching these two cute dogs in a lovely couple’s home, the first borough I lived in when I lived here for law school in 2008, is an interesting full circle (or multiple smaller circles as I zipped back and forth in living here between bouts in Hoboken and Newark, NJ). I still abhor the thought some days when I return home to a Chelsea petsit, within a mile or two of my work, exhausted, of needing to commute to Brooklyn.
However, the “getting away,” even if just by crossing the bridge and adding a few miles, is something to savor. I return home to our more removed from the city, sans needing to schedule ourselves according to an LIRR or Metro North train schedule, petsit, and collapse into a feeling of home.
Heck it’s even led me to separate time from my schedule of “always be productive” to the slow order of preparing kimchi.
And I get up early in the morning and go running among the verdant tree filled Prospect Park.
I haven’t told my husband about this, although he’ll read this soon enough, but it is leading me to consider that one day when we settle down in an apartment, if we do it in NYC, it may actually be in Brooklyn, rather than Chelsea as we had originally planned. Not because of the lower price, but because of the feeling of separation from the city.