City Of Dreams

Forty-Seven

I carefully watch the people passing me in the store.

They all are different.

Blonde, red head, brunette.

Black, white, brown.

American, Chinese, Russian.

They all have different styles.

A little girl passes me and smiles.

She stops and spins around to look at me.

I see her shirt has a silhouette of buildings on it with shiny words that say, "NYC".

She giggles to herself and runs into the other aisle.

I chuckle and grab a can of soup.

"Soup? What are you? Nine?"

I nod.

"God, I miss New York."

She hummed.

"Should have thought about that before you-"

I groaned.

"I know! I just miss it."

I miss the drivers that completely disregard the no-honking law.

I miss the streets that if you look carefully enough, you can see the stories of people that walked there long ago.

I miss the subway and how it can get you anywhere in the big city.

I miss my apartment with the view of downtown Manhattan.

I miss the billboards in Times Square that never sleep.

I miss the constant buzzing of traffic from the city even when you live miles away.

I miss my job.

I miss my theater.

I miss my friends.

I miss my husband.

But I think what I'm most disappointed in...is me.

I worked so hard to get where I was.

And I let it all go.

I miss the confident girl I used to be.

I miss the way I used to stand tall.

I miss my city.