Last Night in My Seat

It’s the last night of March, 2016, and also the last night in my Kips Bay studio.

As usual I’ve put off packing until the eleventh hour, and am writing amidst a whirlwind of chaos. Packing my life up feels like ripping off a bandaid, or bursting a perfect bubble that can’t be un-burst. It’s as if someone is reaching inside me and rearranging my organs: unsettling, emotional, and a little painful.

I notice the familiar tug of nostalgia, which I only get when I’ve truly, deeply loved being in a place. The other time I’ve experienced it so strongly was leaving beautiful Edinburgh after 4 years of university. I remember the same emotion, as I floated slowly around Bruntsfield and the Meadows park one last time. It’s a mixture of longing and already missing somewhere, coupled with intense love and adoration.

When departure is imminent, I desperately absorb every detail around me, just in case I need to extract it from my memory at a moment’s notice. Like that tree outside my door that I’ve never paid attention to, the face of the man who sold me gum and toilet paper every week, and the tile pattern on the floor of my bathroom. When I’m cherishing details like that, it’s clear a place has gotten under my skin.

NY Apartment Fire Escape

This was my first proper home and safe haven in New York. It took a while to adjust to the older, crumbly space after my luxurious temporary accommodation. Eventually, I developed a soft spot for the studio and all of its quirks: from the aggressive rushing sound of the huge, old pipe in the bathroom, to the kitchen lights that dimmed every time the kettle boiled.

My favorite thing to do in the apartment, other than decompress with Netflix in bed, is to sit exactly where I’m drafting this post from. In the kitchen there is a small, high, round table with 2 plastic, bar-stool-like seats. For whatever reason, I’ve only ever sat in one of the chairs.

There’s a large, tall window to the immediate right, and another in front, so despite the kitchen’s tiny-ness, it feels spacious. The small table lamp omits a dim, atmospheric, orangey light.

From here I’ve eaten my rare, home-cooked meals, spoken on the phone to friends and prospective dates, colored my coloring books, written my journal, opened my 30th birthday presents, and typed all my blog posts. It’s crazy to comprehend that I’ll likely never, ever sit here again.

Table with dim lamp

Tomorrow morning I leap into the unknown: my new hood, new room, and new housemate. Tomorrow evening, a close friend from home arrives to celebrate her 30th birthday week. I’m honored she’s choosing to spend it in New York with me, and quietly glad, knowing that she’ll help ground me as I settle into the new place.

For me, moving is scary. All I can do is embrace the ambiguity, and acknowledge that it’s temporary. I remind myself that change has always made me grow, learn, and thrive. I find that life is like riding a bike: to keep our balance, we must keep moving.

And so from this cozy seat, it’s ciao for now. I’m ready to make the move to a new seat, and my next adventure.


  1. Anonymous
    March 28, 2017 / 10:32 pm

    What a great blog about the ambiguity of change. So well written and I can see you there in that orange light… and isn’t life just like riding a bicycle? Brilliant!

    • shemadethemove
      March 29, 2017 / 8:55 pm

      Thank you anonymous – happy to hear the post resonated with you. Change is such a double edged sword, but so necessary! Keep reading 🙂

  2. Anonymous
    March 28, 2017 / 11:58 pm

    This is a beautiful post.

    • shemadethemove
      March 29, 2017 / 8:55 pm

      And this is a beautiful comment – thank you! xox

  3. Rom
    March 29, 2017 / 1:55 am

    The smell of things. I often get accused of romanticizing everything and while I know it’s true…it’s really the only thing that keeps me connected. I’ve also had a few drinks so I apologize if this comment is a little cryptic. Thanks for bringing life to things with your words.

    • shemadethemove
      March 29, 2017 / 8:59 pm

      I’ll take your tipsy, cryptic comments any day of the week! You are so right that smell is a huge part…sight is only half the picture! I don’t miss the urine smell in the stairway of my Kips Bay apartment building, that’s for sure 🙂 Thanks for your lovely thoughts.

  4. March 29, 2017 / 6:32 pm

    Wait a second…last night of Mach 2016??? Are all your posts written about things that happened exactly a year ago? Mind. blown. Regardless, that’s an exciting move – I’ve stayed in the same place for 4 years…this has me itching for change

    • shemadethemove
      March 29, 2017 / 9:04 pm

      Hi Mary Lane! Alas, because I didn’t want to flood my blog with a year’s worth of posts at once, i’m still catching up! I’m releasing one post a week so will get closer to present with every post… writing plenty of fresh material behind the scenes in the meantime 😉 And I definitely recommend a little move if you haven’t already…why not!

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