The walls of the block-long Met Supermarket kitty corner to our block on Smith are now completely gone. There is a giant hole that goes at least 2 stories down, crumbling brick, dust, and debris where we used to get our milk, $10 Polly-O string cheese, suspect organic produce, and whatever other necessities we needed with the Trader Joe’s 5 blocks away was just too far to walk to. The Met will probably be resurrected as a shiny chain, like the Michaels on Atlantic or the Mac store 2 blocks down (both of which I will probably sheepishly shop at).

When I lived on Bergen and 4th Avenue 15 years or so ago in an apartment share with 4 other roommates, someone’s boyfriend and his hermit crabs, my cat Fiona—who ate one of the hermit crabs, and one bathroom (on the block where a taxi yard lives/used to live (?) and an entire 4 story apartment building once collapsed, that still hasn’t given way to the change that’s swept Brooklyn in the past how many years), I would walk from my place to Smith Street down State or Bergen Street–whichever felt safer at that time of day, and once I reached the Met, I knew that I was probably fine. If I had any issues I could run into the store and feel safe. It was like a single-gal-in-the-city-beacon—the familiar bulletin board outside the blackened, dusty automatic doors overrun with old fliers, the smell of kitty litter inexplicably permeating the air of the supermarket, and the two owners taking turns yelling at the check-out gals as they chewed their gum, rolled their eyes and tapped their press-ons on the conveyer belts in boredom.

I had more than a moment of sadness as I passed the hole that used to be the Met on the way to the playground the girls and I named ‘Met Park’ 5 years ago when we moved to Smith. The sadness was exacerbated by the Met going the way of anything old and unprotected in this city, but had begun during a conversation earlier that morning about what New Yorkers love to talk about more than anything else in the world—the rising cost of real estate. My wonderful friend was talking about looking at 2 bedroom apartments in this area with a price tag of $2 million. One bathroom. $2 million. Although I know how outrageously expensive this neighborhood has become, this really pissed me off in a significant way. How dare this city?!? How dare this place change and become unrecognizable and unaffordable to any “normal” (whatever that means?!?) people.

I dug a bit deeper and realized that what I was actually so angry about is not all the wealthy folks who are the only people who can afford to live in MY neighborhood, but the fact that I am leaving and might not be able to afford to live in MY neighborhood when I return. My kids might not get to go to THEIR diverse, free, challenging and lovely school when we get back from India.

As I pushed Mia on the swing at Met Park, with one eye glued to Evie as she ran around in her uniform with her school buddies, I expressed my fear of the return to Brooklyn and the changing neighborhood to a friend of mine who was also pushing her youngest on the swing. And she said simply, “It’s irrelevant.” What? Huh? Wait, stop. Huh? Let’s pause here. It’s irrelevant.

She went on to say that travel changes us in profound ways that we can’t even imagine. She asked me if I had ever gone back-packing for 2 weeks. Uh, not even overnight. Okay, so what’s the longest you have traveled? Maybe 2 weeks when I was in LA after grad school or the 10 days I thatched roofs in the Dominican Republic in high school. Ohhhhh, okay, well, you will see. (Please note that I am paraphrasing this conversation because I am more of a forest person and less of an each individual tree person, so I understand the big picture while not being able to repeat verbatim each piece of the puzzle).

Anyway, that simple gem of wisdom from my wise woman friend has given me such a sense of peace and freedom that I just hadn’t had before. I was trying to keep one foot here while being open to what’s in front of us. And I can’t do that. I have no idea who I will be once I leave India. Everything might change. I’m so excited.