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  • Goodbye, 200 W. 54th Street

    So, after two and a half years, we finally moved out of our apartment on West 54th Street in midtown Manhattan. It really made no sense to keep it with Ben on the road and Ginno going with him to be his guardian.

    That said, we will miss that place more than you can imagine. Great memories were made there as our family embarked on adventures we never thought possible.

    A number of bucket list items were crossed off thanks to that place.

    But one more adventure was still to be had: Driving a U-haul through the streets of Manhattan. And surprisingly, I managed just fine, even though it was a rough ride. Once we got everything loaded, I took off down the New Jersey Turnpike, which felt like riding a mechanical bull for two hours without stopping.

    Fortunately, the traffic gods were kind for once, and I managed to get home safely. We’re now merging the apartment furniture into our house, moving most of it into the basement and Ginno’s boxes into our garage. Who knows when we’ll be back into the city that we’ve come to love.

    And that, folks, is what I define as a melancholy realization.