Yesterday was my four-year mark in New York City. Aside from my hometown, this is the longest I've lived anywhere. (Technically, I lived in Utah for 5 years during college, but between summers home, an internship, and study abroad, it was actually under 4 years cumulatively.) It's strange to think that so much time has passed when it many ways these years have seemed to go by faster than any other period in my life.
I have waxed poetic about New York many times in the past and likely will again in the future, so I'll spare you that now. But I will say that I have grown to love this city that has become my second home. I remember during my first weeks here, leaving my apartment in the mornings and just feeling like everything was right. I didn't really have any friends and I was making $12 an hour at my job, but I knew I was in the right place.
Something about this year (unrelated to Mayan shenanigans) feels like a year of change. I don't don't really have any idea what that change is, but I'm excited for more adventures to come.