goodbyeStuart and I drove up to Astoria yesterday afternoon, to pick up the last tidbits and turn over the apartment to our landlord. I navigated the car down shady streets past places we knew and loved, places we knew and hated, places we’d never tried, places we’d made fun of for years.
We emptied the apartment and hung around the echoing living room, where Stuart first told me he’d move to New York. And the dining room, where we ate and played trivial pursuit and sat to make the offer on on this new apartment. And the bathroom, where we’d scratch the door like cats when the other was in there, because we have no boundaries. And the office, which we painted bright red to deter Jen from calling it the nursery. And the bedroom, where Stuart proposed. And the hallway, where we culminated many battles of tortilla-flinging.
Leaving Astoria is very emotionally fraught. I lived there for five years. I’ve grown (a little) into an adult in that apartment. I’ve learned to love a neighborhood that looks a little rough around the edges, that isn’t particularly hip but that’s welcoming and laid-back and full of surprises.
When we were done at the apartment, we stopped by the Greek bakery and picked up some savory pastries. We stopped by the Mexican deli and got some Mexicokes. And we took them to Athens Park for one last time, to watch the crazy tramps drink hooch and argue, to watch the skateboarders make the old Greek guys insane, to watch people talk with their hands like they do in Astoria.
I’m going to tell you all about what it’s like here, in Brooklyn. I’ve got years to tell you that. But yesterday, I really left Astoria, which I’ve loved and adored for years. I figured the place that brought me so much change, and so much joy, deserved its own little goodbye.

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