The next hilltop over

When I was 21 years old, and halfway through my Political Sciences studies, I was accepted to a Masters program (in Business Management) that had me leave my country for 3 years. I decided to go. I remember telling a friend: “It’s hard knowing that I am leaving Denmark for good.” My friend said something to the effect that it was just 3 years. But I knew for a fact I wasn’t coming back, and it was like a sad knowing, like something inevitable but not wrong.

Fast forward 30 years (and a bit). I didn’t ever go back to Denmark to live. But I have been in New York City for the past 20 years.

Thing is, moving is stressful. Moving country is even more stressful. Moving continents and culture … well, that just takes the cake. And my spouse and I are doing it now, in less than a week.

Except we are not.

I have the same uneasy feeling as when I left Denmark at 21. But my certainty goes in another direction. I have roots in Brooklyn. My child is on the East Coast of the US. I relish my layered memories of this tired, stressful, joyous, bright, energetic and never-ending city. And so I know I am coming back. I love New York City like I have never loved a place before, and I didn’t even really know until this week, as I was packing up to leave.

But there is another piece.

Go to the next hilltop and you’ll get another perspective, my mother always told me. I have been stationary for a while now, at least as a home base. It is time to go to the next hilltop and figure out what I can see from there.