Following the breadcrumbs by Ruth Neuwald Falcon

I’m thinking about moving again.

“What?!” said one of my pals when I told him. “You said when you got there that this would be it. No more moves.”

A reminder of the unreliability of eyewitness testimony.

“Actually,” I replied, “I wouldn’t have said that since I folded up all my boxes and put them into the storage cage that comes with my apartment, along with flattened and rolled up wads of white packing paper, bubble wrap of various sizes, and pieces of cardboard, also of various sizes.” (I’ve learned a lot about packing in the last couple of years; those pieces of cardboard come in mighty handy.)

I knew when I got here that I had arrived (at last) in the right state. It is hard to describe how much I love New York. It’s not that it’s better than any other state; it’s just that it’s better for me. “Would you consider Connecticut?” another friend asks. “Or Jersey?” No, and no. I am committed to being a New Yorker.

What I’m not committed to is the exact geographic location where I landed. There is much that I really like and appreciate about being in the Albany area—it’s the most convenient place I’ve ever lived. It’s remarkably easy to Get Things Done around here. I’ve found doctors and a great volunteer opportunity. I’ve made a wonderful friend and go to the best hairdresser I’ve ever had. But it’s a pain in the butt, and expensive, to get to the city on the train via Amtrak to Penn Station. There’s also no real there here, if that makes any sense. One doesn’t hang out in Albany, and the rest of it is semi-rural/semi-suburban/semi-strip mall.

I recently learned about MetroNorth, the commuter railroad that goes from Grand Central (I love Grand Central, still its beautiful self, unlike the odious Penn Station) as far north as Poughkeepsie, which is seventy miles south of where I am now. Instead of $150 to get my goddaughter up and back to the city for a weekend visit, it would be, maybe, $40. I could take myself to the city for a day of farting around (our favorite urban occupation together since we were eleven) with my oldest friend. I could meander the familiar streets of the Upper West Side and not have to pay for a hotel room.

So I’ve started to look in the Poughkeepsie area. Nothing is tumbling into my lap but I’m doing my best to trust that if I follow the breadcrumbs (first I have to find them), I will be led home.