Home

Brooklyn is my home. In just under two years, it has sheltered me and sustained me. It has kept me happily awake and rocked me to sleep. It gives me a small release of stress whenever I come back to it.

My little part of Brooklyn has magic tucked into its corners. Now that I am on bereavement leave, I spend the lion's share of most days here. When I do go into the city, even to see dear friends, it's with a bit of squaring of my shoulders. In my neighborhood, I release.

I remember when it upset my mom that I started to refer to New York as home. It's weird and awful now to think that no home mine will ever have her in it, at least not corporeally. In another way, though, she will travel with me to all of my future homes. She lives in my heart, memories, spirit, and DNA. 

I love you, Mama.