Don't Make Me Come to Vegas/ I Can't See New York

Alas, I had to come back sometime. But visiting New York after so long (it'd been 8 years), made me more homesick for it than ever. Especially after spending all weekend with Hina, and it being just like we'd never been apart, much less for 19 years.

The comparisons would be patently unfair. There's no city like New York. But we also visited some places on Long Island, our old stomping grounds, as well as Hina's current home in Westchester and her brother's home in Rockland County. Places I'd never been, people I'd never met, but all as familiar and comfortable as can be. Especially our visit to Citi Field, the new home of the Mets. In Vegas, everything is new. They tear down old buildings and put up new ones all the time. In New York, this is not so common. Of course the skyline has changed, due to circumstances beyond the control of the City and its residents. Two buildings missing. A glaring void.

Perhaps two new baseball stadiums mean next to nothing in that context. But to me, they show the resilience of the city and its inhabitants. There is still much to celebrate. And Citi Field is a celebratory place. A rotunda is named for the great Jackie Robinson, who was the first black player in the major leagues. He played for the Brooklyn Dodgers, one of the Mets' two precursors. But his legacy is carried through, new teams, new eras, and new buildings. His words, "A life is not important except in the impact it has on other lives," are emblazoned around the rotunda's half circumference.



And it's true of course. We all measure our lives by the relationships we have with others. Some of those relationships being so formative to our identity, despite the short time they may have lasted. I was glad when Hina found me. I was glad to know how she was doing, that she was having a good life. But I didn't realize that the bond between us could still be as strong. I had thought there was no getting that back. And I was gladly wrong about that. Hina, and her family too, are just as lovely and funny and generous and all around fantastic as I remembered. And remembering is tricky. The memories we have kept with us all this time are vastly different in some places. Why she would remember about some things and I about others is hard to say. But the essence is the same. She is a dear dear friend of mine, and I hope not to lose her again. I'll do all I can. And perhaps the time that has gone by doesn't matter, and perhaps it means everything. Can we ever really appreciate our friends and loved ones enough?

Though I live in Vegas now (and it's where I should be, with my family), it doesn't make me any less a New Yorker. Seeing the greenery and the bridges across the waters and the traffic and the bustling of Times Square and the quaintness of Long Island with its tiny houses and large yards, and the signs calling out the familiar streets and towns, it made me feel place can be funny, how it just triggers the feelings that come rushing back to you. When at once, you can feel that your foot has touched the earth in this same spot before, but your footprint is a bit larger now, and your imprint a bit fainter because it can't stay as long.

How come it's so hard for some people to even think of leaving home, and so easy for others. A life of moving from place to place has its charms, but its disadvantages too. There's always something to leave behind. Even here in Vegas, a place that is always changing and never stays still. When I leave here one day, a bit of me will remain. All I can do is hold on to those people and places and experiences and memories as tightly as I can. And if I do let some of them slip, because all of us do without realizing, I can consider myself lucky if I get them back again. Like I do now.