Since I’ve been in New York, I’ve been asked many times why I love the city so much. I haven’t really known the answer until now.
Asking me why I love New York City is like asking why I love my mom. I don’t know why. The simple answer is that I’ve always felt this way.
I never had the choice to love or not love my mom. Even when middle school me tried to hate her, I couldn’t. Love from the beginning. The moment I saw her after opening my tiny eyes for the first time. Instant love.
But then the love grew
It grew as I got to know her.
The love strengthened when I spent time with her. I learned and loved her character and personality. I loved growing with her.
She was also beautiful. So very beautiful.
She was flawless.
Except humans aren’t flawless.
I grew to learn she had faults. There were things about her character and personality that weren’t always perfect.
She grew more worn down, tired from the pressures and battles life brings.
But the beauty didn’t fade. The love didn’t fade.
I am still willing to love despite the imperfections. Because of the imperfections.
And I can’t explain that, but I know you’ve experienced it too.
The feeling that you’re willing to do anything to save and help this imperfect, beautiful thing even though it’s not your job to do. Because it’s so much wiser and bigger and older. There’s no logical reason for you to care so much.
It’s an unexplainable love, but the strongest of loves I’ve ever felt.
And it’s the love I feel for New York City, too.
And it just keeps getting stronger.