I never thought much about living in New York City. Flushing was too crowded. The streets were dirty. Riding the bus was so annoying, but not riding the bus meant I must walk home. That was also annoying; I don’t know which was more bothersome. I guess I could get bubble tea and food if I walked. The scent of fresh bread from the bakeries was also nice. The trees calmed my nerves, the breeze caressed my face, before I finally hear the turning of keys and the opening of the iron gate. And that was my walk home.

The train was even worse than the bus. It was always breaking down and delaying. Most of the time I ended up staring out the window because there was nothing else I wanted to do. I guess I liked the view. The sky was a bright blue, pasted behind a metallic skyline, which eventually evolved into short rows of houses. The sunlight beaming through the window felt so warm, sometimes I fell asleep. Seeing the train pull into the final stop at Main Street after a tiring day almost felt like I was already home, tucked comfortably in bed.

My mother told me that we probably have to move out of New York. Why do I suddenly miss the city I never thought much about?

By Jamie