IT’S MY LAST NIGHT IN NEW YORK. That’s what keeps going through my head. I’m being dramatic — we will be back in one year in this very apartment, where we have been sleeping on an air mattress for the past few nights, with all of our furniture fully intact (here’s hoping) and wondering how in the hell we ended up back in the crap cold weather. But for the foreseeable future, this is my, our, last night in New York, the city where I’ve built my life for the past nearly 20 years and got it pretty close to my version of perfect. Then, one day I had the idea for this trip and thought WHAT IF. It was just a few months ago when I first brought it up, then brought it up again a few weeks later, waiting each time for A to say I was crazy or to humor me sweetly and then completely dismiss the conversation. But he never did (his open mind, especially to my nonsense: priceless), and the idea turned into a reality as soon as we told our bosses. That, to me, is when the wheels were officially in motion. It didn’t hit me though, really hit me, until we returned to an almost-empty apartment this past Friday, after the movers had come and gone, that WE ARE DOING THIS. It’s all happening. And tomorrow we leave NYC, spend two more weeks in CA with my family, and then we are off. First stop: Brazil. I can’t believe it’s here.
That said, with our pending departure, we had to temporarily give up two members of our family: Fish (his baby) and Plant (mine). I say temporarily; my friend Joanne, who graciously took them in for the duration of our trip, worries her W. 96th St. home may be their final resting place. I have complete faith in her family’s ability to keep the fish and plant alive. Now, with just the two of us here and the children away at camp, we can concentrate on getting the hell out of Dodge before the snownami hits, so we can start our trek. Let’s do this.