I'm in love with a city

The husband surprised me with a trip to New York for our sixth wedding anniversary about four years ago. It was the best surprise anyone's ever given me, and I'm sure I'll never be able to trump it.

It also was the best vacation of my life, and I'm also pretty sure it will never be trumped either.

We were there only about four days, and we tried to pack in as much as we could. The Empire State Building at night, the Staten Island Ferry to pass by the Statue of Liberty, the Museum of Natural History. It was all breathtaking and inspiring. We walked miles and miles through that city, occasionally hopping on the subway. But while the subway was entertaining and quick, you missed so much by not treading the streets.

By the time we left, I was in love. Madly, deeply in love with a truly alive city. If it weren't for the fact that we had left my Big D back home, I would've stayed. I could've pitched a tent in the middle of Times Square and lived harmoniously with the Naked Cowboy and been completely happy. As the plane touched down back home in Indy, I was literally homesick for a city I'd only visited for a handful of days.

As I plan and research this upcoming trip we're taking, I can't help but veer my searches to New York occasionally, browsing flights and hotels, just counting down the days until we can go back sometime. I miss the honking and then the "no honking" signs on 5th Avenue, central park, the hotdog carts, the little lapdogs in Saks. I yearn for all of it.

I know we'll go back sometime, and I know Arkansas in a few weeks will be fun for us and the kids, but I wish my chest wouldn't tighten and my eyes get teary every time I think of it.