Home

Tonight, the driver was older and wore a turban and was annoyed with me for being a few minutes late (it was 9:25 when I got into the car). He didn't introduce himself. We spent most of the ride in silence.
As we drove onto the top level of the Queensborough Bridge, I peered through the tall windows of the high-rise apartments along the East River that I couldn't (yet) afford. And I wondered how many of the people inside had once driven across the bridge and looked through the windows of the luxury apartments and said, One day I will live there.
As we drove over the river, I looked back at the New York skyline all lit up in silver and gold. And I thought about how hard it will be to leave this place if/when we do. My hopes and dreams reside here (and some frustrations too, of course). Here, every day is a reminder that anything is possible, and a chance to rub elbows with some of the greatest actors, artists, writers and success stories in the world. Here is where I found my love, my home--and, eventually, myself.
And I vowed to one day to buy a big apartment in Manhattan with plate-glass windows that overlooked the East River.