Tomorrow

As New York continues to chug back to life after the storm, we are all making it through in our own ways.

My office has been up and running since yesterday, although with very few people around. Yesterday's commute was a little hectic, since the only public transportation in the city was above ground buses. To say they were crowded would be like saying Sandy was "just a little storm." A gross exaggeration. After being on a bus that traveled thirteen blocks in approximately 40 minutes, I decided to walk the rest of the way.

It was strange being out and about on the Upper West Side. My neighborhood came through the storm relatively unscathed, and the sun was even shining as I walked the ten blocks to work. Looking around, except for the unusually large crush of people crowding the sidewalks, there was nothing really amiss. But just twenty blocks to my south, an entire swath of the city remained without power and water. Basements were still flooded, and in some cases, people still couldn't get home.

Strolling around my office, I started to understand the real effects of the storm. It is a pretty big firm, so employees hail from all over the tri-state area, and everyone has a story. Yesterday morning the managing partner of the office sent around an e-mail thanking everyone who managed to make it in, despite overwhelming transit issues, and telling us that the firm would be offering free lunch in the cafeteria. Most days, the lawyers grab lunch and eat at their desks. But not yesterday. Yesterday lawyers and other firm staff crowded the tables, happy to be there. To be ok. To be together. And we told our stories, and we listened to each other, and for one hour, colleagues were family.

With every passing hour, I hear more news of recovery, and even though there is still a lot to be done, I am proud of this city. Of my city.

Well, my city for a few more hours.

Because tomorrow. Tomorrow morning the movers are coming, and they will pack up our apartment and move us north. They will put our life into boxes, and they will move it to our new home, and our new life

And it has not escaped me that I am starting this brand new life on the tail of devastating tragedy faced by so many over these past few days. And even though my family and I have been so incredibly lucky, I know so many who have not been.

And it is them I am thinking about as I pass my last hours in my apartment, in New York City. I think of them, and I think about myself. And the past seven years I have spent here. The good and the bad. The ups and the downs.

It has been a good life, this life. And now it's time to move on. Even though I will still be working here, I won't be living here anymore. It will be radically, wildly different. And I am ready.

So tomorrow morning, I will go for one last early morning run, and say my goodbyes to the city that has loved me and nurtured me and helped me find my way. And then I will come home, and take my husband's hand, and together we will move on.

To our new city. Our new home.