Why I Reluctantly Gave Up on My Dream of Living in New York City

But what a great place to visit!

Pinch me!

I’m living a long-time dream today — even if it’s only for a few hours.

I’m sitting in a Midtown Manhattan coffee shop with my laptop open, spinning thoughts into words and wondering why it’s taken me so long to find my way here.

I’m visiting my oldest daughter, who unlike me, followed her heart to the Big Apple when she turned twenty-five. When I was her age, I thought about making that move but never did.

In a way, I’m jealous of her life.

At this moment, I’m in awe of the energy surrounding me. The youth. The ambition. The diversity. I’m soaking it all in, letting my imagination run wild. I’m channeling my inner Carrie Bradshaw and pretending that I’m a successful writer who hit it big in the city that truly never sleeps.

I’m also feeling old. Like I don’t belong here anymore. And it’s not that there aren’t plenty of people of all ages moving past me as I write. The guy sitting next to me appears close to my age. I’m curious — Does he live here? Or he is just visiting like me?

Despite being awestruck by everything around me, there’s this overwhelming sense of knowing that the current version of myself could no longer survive here. I’ve lived in the suburbs too long and abandoned several of my earlier dreams.

Looking forward, not back.

In searching for a cool spot to set up camp today, I pictured a gritty diner with old vinyl booths, a long sit-down counter, and a short-order cook making pancakes and omelets on a giant kitchen griddle. If they had Wi-Fi, I’d be good. Bring on your best greasy spoon!

But after peeking in a few windows and not finding exactly what I was looking for, I eventually landed in a Starbucks. Of course I did!

I’m a creature of habit and somehow couldn’t step outside my comfort zone too far. The familiarity drew me in and put me at ease, so here I sit. Despite the guy who just wandered in from outside, danced joyfully to the music booming from the overhead speakers, and then proceeded to ask everyone for loose change, I’m comfortable here. Relaxed. Having a great time and reflecting on the trip so far.

The first red flag.

As my daughter and I explored the city last night, we were approached by a few people asking for money. She told me that it happens all the time and warned me to ignore them.

That’s hard. How do you ignore someone in need?

I spent a good portion of my career working with a nonprofit serving the impoverished, and there I was looking away and pretending that I hadn’t heard someone’s plea for help — the same way I dug my nose closer to my keyboard when the Starbucks dancing man came to my table. I kept the cash in my pocket and it suddenly crossed my mind that it was likely too late to entertain the idea of living here.

I was bothered by the admission.

Keeping the dream alive.

Maybe if I came up with a list of pros versus cons, I could convince myself that my husband and I could move here someday. Maybe? Even for a bit?

Assuming we could actually afford it, we would embrace all the city has to offer — the culture, the people, the vibe. Perhaps I could become a better writer — maybe eventually publish one of my novels — by immersing myself in a community steeped in creativity and loaded with contacts in the publishing world.

My mind races over the potential. I look up from my laptop and smile at this particular coffee shop's atmosphere. Other than the menu, it doesn’t look anything like my Starbucks back home. I’m fascinated by the woman a few seats away who sounds like a college professor. I overheard her complaining about her students this semester in an unfamiliar accent. I’m curious. Where does she teach and where is she from?

The people-watching here is awesome, always competing with the constant soundtrack of honking horns and blaring sirens. On the street, I see:

• People in business clothes racing by others who are obviously tourists.
• People riding bikes, weaving in and out of standstill traffic.
• People selling fake bags and watches.
• People wearing uniforms or medical scrubs.
• People shoving flyers and coupons in the hands of disinterested pedestrians.
• People wearing Yankees hats and jerseys.

Inside the Starbucks, I spy:

• A woman with two tiny and ill-behaved dogs.
• A kid carrying a backpack loaded with books.
• A jogger stopping in for a drink.
• A man using crutches who I passed earlier as he was trying to hobble up the subway stairs.
• People with earbuds, talking on cell phones.
• Smiling people.
• Scowling people.
• Friendly-looking people.
• Unapproachable-looking people.
• People, people, people. And so many of them!

If I were sitting in the Starbucks near my house instead — smack dab in the middle of Midwest suburbia — only a small handful of people would be inside the café right about now. Most people use the drive-thru there, and I’ve never seen a line anywhere near as long as the one I’m staring at now.

Reality sinking in.

Thoughts of the drive-thru make me pause. It’s got to be strange living without a car, especially once you’ve had one for 40+ years.

My daughter admits that she misses driving. She misses being able to hop in the car and take a quick trip to the store. She prefers loading and unloading her trunk in the driveway to lugging a shopping cart behind her on a busy street. She empathizes with the woman who entered our subway car last night carrying a nightstand that looked like it weighed more than she did. And she gets annoyed having to make frequent trips to the store because she has little room to store anything in her tiny apartment.

I don’t blame her for having those feelings. Convenience is nice. I’d probably dislike having to rely on public transportation, too. Almost as much as I’d dislike having to see mounds of trash bags piled up on the street all the time.

This trip has given me a whole new appreciation for the two plastic receptacles I roll down my driveway every Sunday evening — one for trash, the other for recyclables. They go out at night full and turn up empty the next day.

The trash in New York City is an eyesore, but could I get used to it? Could I get used to sitting in traffic for almost two hours in the back of a cab the way I did yesterday on my way in from the airport? Would I miss recognizing the majority of faces I pass on the street as I do back home?

My daughter hasn’t had trouble making friends here, but they’re scattered throughout New York, so it’s an effort to see them. Maybe that’s how I’d describe living here compared to back home. It takes more effort — to do just about everything.

But would it be worth it? Could I tolerate the hassle and inconvenience in exchange for living in New York? I wonder…

As the newness fades.

I wondered even harder last evening when I noticed a bunch of tourists pointing up at the sky. Curious, I followed their gaze to find them admiring how the sun was lighting up the Empire State building. My daughter didn’t look up until I elbowed her in the side and said, “Wow, look at that!” Her response surprised me. She admitted that she barely looks up to admire the massiveness of the skyscrapers anymore. She’s usually in a hurry and needs to focus on where she’s walking.

When she rides the bus to and from work, she only looks out the window at the street — at the people, the cars, and the garbage. I remembered how when she first moved here, everything sparkled. She called home regularly to tell me about all the cool places she’d been and things she’d done. The excitement in her voice had given me a clear picture of the starry eyes from which she was viewing her new surroundings.

It’s disappointing to think that her enthusiasm for New York may already be fading. Can the honeymoon be over after eighteen months? I sure hope not. But her ambivalence toward the incredible skyline that looms over her daily seems like living near an ocean but not going to the beach.

Those Aha moments.

But as I sit here in a Manhattan Starbucks, I understand a few things more than ever, including You can’t go back.

Although I typically subscribe to the idea that “you’re never too old to follow your dreams,” I also know that my chance to move to a city like New York is behind me.

And it’s not really about age.

I’ve simply grown comfortable and used to my lifestyle — as anyone adapts to their surroundings. In the same way that my daughter has grown accustomed to public transport and wearing sensible footwear with a dress.

Do I wish I would have moved here when I was younger? Perhaps. But I have no regrets. My life took a different turn, and so far, it’s been a great ride. I can let that dream go.

At the same time, I’m thrilled that my daughter lives here. Even more excited that I get to share some of her experiences.

We went to a Broadway show, walked through Times Square, and split one of the best bagels I’ve ever tasted for breakfast this morning. Tomorrow, we’re headed to a yoga class in Central Park and dinner at one of her favorite restaurants. “It’s a real hole in the wall,” she warns, “but the food is delicious!” I can’t wait.

Farewell.

After doing what always seems like the impossible — saying goodbye to my daughter until next time — I’ll reflect on how alive I felt spending time in the city that never sleeps and how envious I am that she’s chasing her dreams while she’s young.

I’m not much different at age 50+ than I was at her age. I still like the same things and have many of the same behavioral patterns and idiosyncrasies. My priorities and core values have remained steady and I’m still trying to achieve some of the same goals.

What’s changed the most is my perspective. Life has a way of doing that to you.

So, while I can still appreciate a good piece of New York-style pizza, will never tire of a ferry ride around the Statue of Liberty, and won’t give up on someday attending the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, I’ll head home appreciating the short ride from the airport to my house and happily move the trash bins to the end of the driveway before Monday morning.

I may not have my own stories about living the dream in NYC, but life is good.

The only major thing I’d change now is that all my kids lived closer. Being here with my daughter makes me realize how much I miss being able to see them whenever I want. That’s a dream I’ll never let go of!