gotta love Brooklyn

 {Image via}

As I got out of class last night - way up on 96th street in Manhattan, with drizzling rain still falling in the midst of a cold wind - I couldn't bear the thought of my commute home. I hated that I'd moved as far as Brooklyn, hated that I had to get on a train for half an hour, and make a transfer to boot. It just all felt terribly overwhelming (I know, I know, talk about a First World Problem!). But of course I hoofed it to my stop and continued my way home, what else can ya do, right?

And as I got onto my L train, heading into Brooklyn from the city, I was shocked at how full my train was. At 10 pm there was a slew of people, packed tight as sardines, murmuring amongst themselves, laughing at each other, making space for older people to sit, clearing room for those burdened with bags to unload for a bit. And I was overcome with happiness that these were my neighbors. That all these people in this train, all these people waving at the baby in the stroller, and clearing as much room as possible between them and the person behind them, chuckling at events of the day, were my fellow Brooklynites. They had surely all had just as long a day as I - many of them, probably a much longer one. And they all were just as relieved as I to be heading home, and they were chipper and congenial on their ride there. It really was lovely. And I was once again beyond content that I chose to leave the rush of Manhattan to move across the water.