My last couple of days in the States were filled with lots of tears and quick goodbyes. The plan was to spend Sunday morning in Connecticut before having my friend bring me to the train station so we could hang a bit more and I would spend the night in NYC before flying back to Paris on Monday evening. My mother and I went shopping in the morning so she could spoil me just a bit more before I left and once we got back I had just enough time to pack my bags before heading out. Unfortunately, I was becoming so emotional about leaving my Mommy and not having time to see my Daddy again before leaving, that I canceled plans with my friend so that I could have lunch with my father and stepmother and have them bring me to the train station. I was sad to not be able to see my friend again, and even sadder when I realized how little time I got to spend with all of my friends. But since I was effectively behaving like a 5 year old dropped off at kindergarten for the first time, it seemed best to let my parents pamper their beautiful blonde baby just a little bit longer.
When I finally made it into the City (for those who aren't aware, the only city in the universe is in fact New York City), I was exhausted and famished and thrilled to spend the night in with my brother, sister-in-law and Baby Booooo. The best part was that the second I entered the apartment, Nephew asked his Auntie La if I would play with him and I was just happy as a clam to do so. We ordered some Mexican food, hunkered down in front of the television, and I was frankly dozing off with my gin and whatever weird mixer I had procured while reading a book circa 9pm. The only negative was the fact that at around 7am when I was awoken the next morning for goodbyes, Baby was not in the mood for any emotional other than painful chagrin at the thought of having to go back to daycare post-holidays. I wasn't remotely upset by his toddler mind, but once again tearful that I had to say goodbye at all.
I spent the day running a few errands around Manhattan, and meeting up with one of the friends I wasn't able to see my first time romping about NYC before Christmas. She was actually an English student of mine for almost a year before I moved to Paris and we became much more girly gossiping friends by the end. We met downtown closer to Wall Street and the Seaport, an area of town I never got to on a daily basis but also love visiting when I have a reason. She suggested a wonderfully spacious bar with massive windows facing out to the water and we enjoyed a lovely catch up session. Much too soon, I had to head back to Brooklyn so that I could prep my bags for our cab ride to JFK and my flight home. Regrettably, I made the mistake of reading an article about the Malaysian Airline crash that had just happened the day before, which is probably why my flight home was much more anxiety-ridden than my flight to New York. Even so, it was more the beginning pangs of separation and nostalgia that were the hardest things to swallow. Being home for the holidays was amazing and fulfilling, but never ever long enough to be thoroughly satisfying. Happily, I had another adventure looming quickly on the horizon, spending only one day in Paris before I would be off to the UK for New Year's Eve.