Friday marked my 3 year anniversary in NYC – a tremendous move for me, coming from Southern California. There’s nothing like moving to a new state where you hardly know anyone to make you feel a little lost.
The last 3 years in New York City have been exciting, partly because they presented so many new challenges (weather, employment, transit, and more), and also because NYC is such a fast-paced, fantastic, fun place to live. Despite the good times, I must admit that there are days that I wonder who I am and what I’m doing so far away from family, and from people and places that I know and love.
Last night as I lay in bed, once again wondering if I might be completely alone in the world, I remembered a small lighthouse-shaped night lamp my mother gave me years ago. I used to use it all the time, but over the years I’ve stowed it away, never really finding a place to put it. I pulled the lamp out and plugged it in, and suddenly, in the dim light, I felt like she was right there with me.
I’ve always loved lighthouses; they seem grand and noble to me, guiding ships in the dark to a safe harbor. Perhaps I love them because, like a ship in a dark sea, I’ve always known I was destined to travel the world, but would always need a light to guide me home. And so I know that no matter where I am, as long as I remember where home is, there I shall be.