The last time I visited New York was seven months ago.
It was Labour Day weekend, and it marked a full year since my previous summer spent living in Brooklyn. During my visit, I felt different about the city that I was attached to. I tried to push myself away from the experience; the way you do when you love something, but you know it no longer serves you. On that visit, I came to the realization that I wasn't going to find my way back there.
I needed a reality check. I had only lived there for a summer, not a century. I was still a tourist in most regards. When I got home from that trip, I imposed upon myself a New York City ban. I didn't book my usual trips for Halloween or New Years Eve; I stayed put. I focused on local ambitions. I found my own place. I committed to my job.
Once I was settled in Toronto, I felt that I could book a trip back, without having to push anything away. I was ready to embrace my favourite city, like the moment when you finally become friends with an ex, and you can see them without wanting to be with them. At least that's how I hoped I would feel. This time, I knew I'd have something of mine to come home to.
Before I left, I booked a hair appointment and welcomed brighter strands for my usual spring refresh. I mean, when you know you're going to run into your ex, you want to look your best right?