With Edith turning 10 a couple of months ago, I've been thinking a lot about the last decade. Ten years ago this summer, we moved back to Ohio after six years in New York. And think about how much has happened since then -- a wonderful house, another kid, neighbors that have become some of my best friends, a satisfying freelance career.
And still I think about those six years in New York as the "best years of my life" -- firmly in quotes. That is, they were the most exciting and most carefree years I've experienced. We lived in one of the biggest, most vibrant cities in the world. Paul and I traveled to Asia, South America and throughout Europe. We had next to no true responsibilities.
It wasn't all sunshine and rainbows there -- it was hard living so far away from family -- but I was certainly happy while I was there. I think I could have lived there the rest of my life.
And yet. And yet I think I'm even happier now than I was back then. Our little family is twice the size, and I love the proximity of our extended families. I have more, closer friends. Our old Brooklyn neighborhood will always have a fond place in my heart, but our Columbus neighborhood is much more of a home.
So the best years of my life? Maybe they are now. But honestly, I hope they haven't happened yet.
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