Leaving New York

To see pictures of all of the events listed below, click through our blog. It's all there. Somewhere.

It has been almost a year since my last post, and almost everything in our lives has now changed. Around January of this year, we began casually talking about leaving New York City. We needed a break. We needed space. We needed to be in a place that allowed us to be financially stable. Our talks turned into prayers. Our prayers turned into doors being shut and a clear path being opened in the last place I think we had ever thought of; back to Tampa. I had mixed thoughts about this. Tampa is the place of my birth.  It is where our families are. It's comfortable. But comfortable seemed boring to me. Internally, I fought this idea. I refused to pack. I cried. I told no one. And I prayed. Slowly, my heart began to change. In March, I resigned from my job. For six years I was a Second Grade teacher at a private school. I loved these kids more than I can ever describe, and the staff that I worked with were all people whom I had come to regard as my family. The announcement was made to our community towards the end of the school year, and the emails and calls and words that I received, and am still receiving, from the parents and students alike still stir emotions deep within me. Everything moved quickly from that point on. Too quickly. We packed, we said goodbye to our friends, and we left the city that we had called home since our wedding day back in 2006. Even though it felt right, it didn't feel real.

Two weeks ago, I returned alone to New York City for the wedding of my dear friend Alexis. Flying in and seeing the city below me brought back a huge rush of emotions, and I knew that I would need to spend some time dealing with that while I was in town. Therefore, the day that I was set to fly back out, I spent some time walking around and saying goodbye to my city.

First, I walked by 308 E 83rd St. This rundown, walk-up brownstone was our first home together. We lived in a studio on the first floor that contained just enough room for our bed, a futon, a TV, and several families of mice that all banded together and refused to die. This is the year that we had nothing. We were flat out broke. Our idea of a good time was to take a few dollars and go buy some cheap treats at the deli down the street, then we'd come home and watch the cooking channel, which is the only channel that we picked up since we didn't have cable. We scraped by. We killed mice. We laughed. We both began to perform on various stages across the city. We killed some more mice. We were happy.

I thought next about walking by our second apartment in the city, which was located about 20 blocks north in Spanish Harlem, but my time was short so I hopped on a city bus and just thought about that apartment instead. This was the year that Scott decided to move from being a Photographer's Assistant to owning his own Photography LLC. We weren't sure how it would turn out, so we did what a lot of people in NYC do, but is looked upon as strange anywhere else-we took on two roommates. It was now myself and three guys. The stories I could tell from this year are many, mostly humorousness in nature, but I won't. Though I will say, I really miss our neighbor that would dance, stretch and flex in front of her bathroom mirror while all 4 of us would huddle around the kitchen window and watch. She was fun. Thank you, you.

I then took the bus and headed down to the Upright Citizens Brigade Theater on W 26th st. It was here that I first took the stage (and completely bombed) on my first ever improv show. It was here that I studied over the course of two years and actually got pretty decent up on that stage. This place became my home away from home. I was good. I was receiving pretty great feedback and was making friends with people who are now in ridiculous positions within the entertainment industry. It was a rush. It was also here that I first spoke the words "I'm pregnant" aloud. I told my group right before we took the stage for what would turn out to be my last show. Then, the lights came on, my son kicked me in the ribs, throwing up was on the horizon, and I just sat down. Right there on the stage. My entire team of guys sat down around me as I was dry heaving in front of the audience, and they created a bit that turned into a self help sketch. I loved those guys. I miss that stage.

I walked past Lenox Hill Hospital. Here was the place that my baby boy, MacPherson Charles DeVore, entered into the world, followed shortly after by Beyonce's baby. Just saying.  We placed MacPherson in a taxi two days later and brought him home to Roosevelt Island- our third, and final apartment in the city. We spent four years on this island and we met a ton of characters, mostly seniors as our home was located within a retirement community. On the day that our moving vans came, they cried. They told me that my son and his smile had blessed them and that they wished us well. They were precious.
 
The rest of the time I spent wandering on foot around Chelsea and the West Village. I drank coffee, people watched,and I silently thanked God for allowing me six wonderful, dream fulfilling years here in this great city. Then, I threw away my coffee, called my husband, and hopped in a taxi to head back to collect my belongings and fly back home to Tampa. Tampa; where I am still figuring out my next steps, but I am thoroughly enjoying my days spent at home watching my son grow up around his family and the ocean. I am thankful, thankful for it all.