Written March 30, 2021

Lately it feels like the city is on the verge of exploding into spring. The buds are everywhere, seemingly overnight the daffodils emerged and we’ve only worn our puffy coats a few times in the last two weeks. It feels like a true awakening.

Last year we watched spring emerge from our windows while the virus plowed through our communities and our neighbors. Looking back, I’m not sure we noticed spring’s rebirth. Instead we were terrified living in the then-epicenter of an invisible killer.

This year we take deep, masked breaths as we walk outside. We see familiar faces turned up to the spring sun while wondering where some of our old familiar faces went. Did they move? Did they get sick? Did they recover?

That’s one of the hard parts about living in NYC under any circumstance. Living in a transient city reminds you not to get too, too comfortable, to hold onto friendships while they’re here and to miss them fiercely when they go, wherever it is they go.

This year March isn’t going out quite like a lamb, but we are so grateful it’s not the lion it was last year. Instead, it’s a feisty unicorn and we continue to wear our masks, be socially distant, see our families over Zoom, dream of the day we can be physically present.

We cherish a spring we can be present for while missing those faces we used to see and looking forward to being able to hug the ones who are still here.