Big City vs. Small Town - The Finale
The holidays came and went, blessed by the arrival of my sister’s daughter, Charley. Being with family and having the ability to continue working remotely made for a pretty incredible experience. Compared to returning to NYC in the dead of winter and to isolation as the city hunkered down for flu season and increased COVID cases, living in a place I had long left behind felt like the easiest decision. How would I re-adapt to an 800-square-foot apartment with little face-to-face contact and no respite offered by the bike I could not ride in freezing conditions? The answer unfolded before me like a book I knew well. I began preparing to move my life to Little Rock, even if it was only temporary.
I settled into my parents’ house there, a decision I had to consent to despite the feeling that I was 40-something and living back home. I continued to work my NY job, seeing clients via Telehealth and spending much-needed time with family on my days off. Little Rock had changed, and I with it. I grew accustomed to being back in the small city and even thought about what it would be like to live here permanently. Everything was cheaper, my family was growing, and I was ready to leave the safety of an established therapy practice to start my own.
By the summer of 2021, I was living and working not so comfortably in a 2-bedroom house with my parents, and my private practice was growing. I got my license to practice in Arkansas and settled into my new life. Most of my belongings still lingered in my tiny Harlem apartment and needed to be brought to Arkansas. My mom and dad traveled to the city often that year and returned home with extra bags they had taken up with them, filled to the brims with my stuff. They left their apartment in the city and moved into mine to reduce expenses. For this, I was grateful. It kept the option of returning to NYC when I wanted or needed available to me and the rest of my family. I still had a toe in that expansive and busy metropolis, which felt like having some ownership in the best of both worlds.
It is strange to reflect on this experience. I arrived in NYC in a whirlwind and left quite the same way. Nothing about my six-year stint there was normal or without a touch of adventure. The same could be said of my move to New Orleans in 2005, shortly before Hurricane Katrina devastated the city. But that is another story for another time. To continue taking these journeys with me, sign up to receive emails or check back here for new additions to The Stoop.
