Things are different this time around. I've been here before. This time it feels more personal, almost intimate. I didn't expect to feel this way. I haven't explored a city with my parents since 98. But this isn't just a city. This is the city.
The city where a new chapter's being told... It's where my sister lives. I'm seeing the streets through her eyes. She is familiar with each street and district. She's pointing out stores and restaurants and speaking of backstories only residents would know. I'm seeing how my little sister is growing up; I use the term "little" only in relation to our age—she is bold, caring, mature. The city has added years to her wisdom yet diminished not her kindness. I miss her in a way that's only punctuated when she's around. She speaks of this place, wistful and inspired. I've been here five years, she says, still I have much more to discover.
The city where another story had long been written... I'm staying in Chinatown. In this place, three decades earlier, my parents met. I'm seeing this place through their voices. I'm rounding corners and pockets where they would eat and work and fall in love. Fruit stands and bakeries and sunglass parlors. "Kam Man" market—that's the place where she worked as a cashier. He would wait there, outside, till her end of shift. They didn't quite know what they were doing but they were young and free. I don't recall these streets anymore, my mom says. Things are familiar but different. I suppose it's like finding your old chess board. You recognize the pieces but don't quite remember where they fit together.
Two of my cousins, close in age, grew up here. Brooklyn, Queens. I'm seeing how the burroughs have shaped them. Respectful and kind, sharp, tough.I wonder how different my life would've been if my mom and dad had stayed. My mom's best friend out here raised a son who is one of Kenny's best friends. He stood as a groomsman on his wedding day. If I grew up here, maybe we'd be running in the same circles, too.
New York's already colorful, but seeing and hearing these stories help add more hues. Not everybody gets to connect the dots of a journey, where and how you got to a place. I'm glad, blessed, to be able to do that with some of the people I love.
The ink's dry and the words might be faint but the power lives in the story.