Stroll Down Memory Lane

Today I tutored on the East Side and walked from one home to the other. I walked right past my high school, past my first real home in NY (East 87th St. Claridge Club) and past my old nursery school. It was strange and soothing to see how little many of these places changed. The big building on 87 St is where my sister, now 29 was born. It is where my father filmed way too much of me dancing and changing costumes (and blurting "fucking asshole" to my toddler brother who interrupts the show). My brother threw many many items out that 29th floor window and we would collect the pieces in the court yard below. As I looked at the unchanged typical Upper East Side building (first and last with a doorman that I would ever live in), I wondered, what would I tell my four year old self? What could my four year old self teach me now? It is hard to believe that three decades have passed and that my parents divorced, each had more kids (mother one and father three) and that they were my age now when we lived in that apartment. Time is crazy and I guess I have a pretty good memory/vivid imagination because I remember much of it crisply and fondly. I am so happy to have grown up in New York and so grateful to still be able to live here.