New Beginnings in New York

A few months ago, I taught my little brother how to play MASH.

MASH, I explained to him, is a game I used to play in elementary and middle school with my friends to predict our future.

It’s easy to play. Each letter stands for something: M (mansion), A (apartment), S (shack), and H (house). Then, you create other categories – up to your discretion, really – that will help you map out the person your playing with’s future. You have them pick a number, then you count off each option until there’s only one left in each category. Then, you’re left with their future life.

Jesse was so excited to play. I intended to only do it for him, but once he saw how his turned out he couldn’t wait to do it for me.

Anyone who knows my little brother knows it’s hard to keep his attention. He could be in the middle of a sentence and completely switch over to a new thought. But when he played MASH, he was all in.

He excitedly created categories, all stemming from the mind of an eight-year-old boy. Within a few minutes, he had mapped out my future for me.

I don’t live in a fridge (thank god), I don’t have one million bunnies, drive a plane, or am a super villain with minions. But, as of last week, I do live in New York.

I visited New York for the first time when I was seven. I don’t remember everything about that trip, just the highlights. Going to Toys R Us and seeing the ferris wheel. Having Thanksgiving dinner with my family of 20+ people in a small, crowded diner. Ice skating in Rockefeller Center with my uncle.

Years later, I wrote my college essay about that very trip. That essay got me into my dream school… in New York. I wrote about how New York is pure magic, pure excitement and electricity, even in the mundane. There was nothing special about the diner where we had Thanksgiving. What made it special was the unconventionality of it and the time spent in a crowded diner with my family. There was nothing extraordinary about ice skating at Rockefeller – thousands do it every year – but holding on to my uncle’s hand made it a special moment that is now one of my favorite memories with him.

I didn’t go back to New York until 10 years later when I was 17. I saw the city with fresh eyes and a different perspective. It’s when I knew I wanted to apply for college there, unknowing that just a year later, I’d get accepted and would be moving to the city. It felt like my heart always belonged there.

New York is simultaneously my favorite and least favorite place in the world. It’s a cruel reminder of every time I have been at my lowest, and a wonderful reprieve from such moments.

It’s where I was when I got the call about my uncle’s passing. The same city where I was ice skating with him as a little girl was the same city I heard he was no longer with us. It’s where I got through my first heartbreak, feeling worthless and alone. The same park I walked through to get to class while I was feeling like I was falling apart is the same park where, just a few weeks ago, I was laughing and sharing memories with some of my best friends. It’s the city where I go to Broadway shows to remind myself that it’s okay to feel and to cry, and that art can help heal us.

I think I love New York more than I should — and maybe for all the wrong reasons — but I love it nonetheless.

Truthfully, as much as I feel I belong in New York, leaving Miami is hard. Miami is my home and my heart, and it always will be. Anyone who is from there knows how special it is. It’s a big city but feels like a small town; everyone knows everyone, and everyone is family.

Miami has my favorite food, my favorite sports teams, and so many of my favorite memories. Most importantly, Miami has my favorite people. My parents, my brothers, my best friends, my cousins. Unfortunately, these people can’t come to New York with me (not for lack of trying). Every single part of me is being called to New York, except for having to be so far away from the people I love.

I fell in love with New York when I was seven. And I’ve fallen in love with it every time again since. It almost feels hard to believe that I’m back in New York, living here. Jesse could have played MASH a million different times, and every time he would’ve put “New York” on there. No matter what, I was always meant to come back.