Written on May 23, 2019

Hello, New York – my old friend.

I’ve been thinking a lot about change lately – how it is inevitable. That is a guarantee of life. And I am someone who mostly enjoys change. Sometimes I seek it out; sometimes it presents itself to me and I gladly accept. I crave to know new things, to experience that which I haven’t before. Change, to me, is the natural evolution of our lives – it is proof that we are moving forward. It requires boldness. It requires trust. And it requires you know yourself.

I made quite a large change nearly seven years ago when I moved here. Do you remember, New York? I do. I was a wide-eyed, daydreaming dancer stepping into your world with a childhood dream of “making it” in this city. I came to dance, to discover, to grow, to experience. I most certainly did not have everything figured out, but I knew you and I would sort it out together.

That is what we did, dear friend. We got to know each other. We learned each other’s habits and tendencies. We shared secrets and laughter. Each sunrise brought a new adventure, and steadily we built a life together.

But you and I have always known that our time together was temporary. We’ve known we would share a magnificent journey but that one day we would part ways – that when we approached this fork in the road, I would veer left and you would continue right. That day has come, and as I sit to write a letter to you once more, I’m nearly at a loss for words. For you and I have written the most wonderful story; we are forever intertwined.

Standing now on the other side of this journey and looking back at our seven years, I can proudly say I achieved all I set out to do with you. Oh yes, I danced. I performed in a theater in Times Square with Claire Danes in the audience; on a sidewalk in Queens on a hot August day; in a loft apartment alongside fierce women; in a studio as a surprise for my mom. I spent two years creating my own show to tell my personal story, to bridge the gap between my life in WV and my life in NYC. I premiered it for a packed audience on a crisp fall evening – the loveliest of dreams manifested. I matured in my artistry; I crafted new improvisation projects to share the beauty of art and how it happens all around us.

And I want you to know, New York, that my artistry will only continue to grow. You taught me immeasurable lessons. You pushed me, expanded me, grew me. My art is richer and bolder because of you, and that is something that will be shared everywhere my feet touch. I am forever an artist; my art will go with me. You helped solidify that.

As I continue to think about all that makes up our journey, I’m moved by how beautiful it is. It is the people met along the way who made this place home. Only you and I fully know the depths of the stories shared with them. There is truly no way to ever encapsulate all of it. But as I sit here, my mind forms a reel of memories – quick images of laughter on a futon, of tap dancing to get a job, of meeting heroes, of Sunday spaghetti lunches. I see moments of presentations and PowerPoints, of prayers before dinner, of dancing in the rain, of just-missed trains. My mind thinks of late nights in the studio, of cramped living rooms, of tiny Christmas trees, of chocolate fondue. It remembers moments of smoky comedy clubs, of game nights on a couch, of singing praise in the basement of a YMCA, of picnics in the park. And you, sweet New York, are where my husband and I began our marriage; that is something we will forever hold dear.

All of these moments and memories swirl magically within my mind, and I am well aware at how much we have given each other over the years. I gave you my twenties. I gave you my dreams and my confidence. I gave you my heart. You, in turn, gave me experiences only you could give. You gave me some of my life’s greatest friendships. You gave me stories to tell for the rest of my life. I will never be able to thank you enough, nor will I ever be able to explain all of it. But those are the marks of the best things in life, right?

As with any long-term relationship, you changed me. I’m a little bit sassier, a little bit feistier, a little bit braver and steadier and bolder. And I truly hope I left a mark on you – perhaps gave you something you did not have before we shared our time.

Yes, we “made it” together, New York. And that is why I can confidently move on to the next path. You see, there are more adventures on my horizon – more things to discover, to see, to do. While this goodbye is not without tears, I am ready to explore the new. And while I will most certainly miss you beyond words, I have confidently accepted Change’s outstretched hand. I remember doing that once before, and it turned out beautifully.

I hope I make you proud, old friend.

With love always,

Tiny Dancer