The Hub.

A few years ago I took a trip out to San Francisco in February. It was the first time I’d been back there in years, the first time I’d spent the majority of my time in the city completely on my own. We landed at SFO to brilliant sunshine and temps in the 60’s. After taking a cab into San Francisco proper and checking in at the front desk of my hotel, I scurried upstairs to my room. Having caught an early morning flight out of Logan I was exhausted, but too giddy to rest. I had plans to drop my suitcase, brush my teeth, and hit the pavement, exploration mode in full throttle. Before heading out, I walked over to the window, opening it a crack to let in some fresh California air. Across the courtyard I could see that we backed up to an apartment building. In my direct line of sight was someone’s kitchen. I could see magnets on the fridge, pots hanging above the sink, a few plants along the windowsill. It looked cozy, inviting, lived in by someone who had a similar decor style to my own.

I sat down on the bed, continued to play voyeur with that kitchen. The air smelled so clean, the sunshine felt so warm, and that apartment appeared so welcoming, I began to think. I could do it. I could live here. I saw myself packing up boxes, moving myself across the country. As I strolled along the city streets that afternoon, climbing hill after hill, I pictured myself ducking into a coffee shop here or there, winding my way to an office building, meeting friends for cocktail hour, driving north across the Golden Gate for a weekend getaway. It worked in my head, my heart. It felt right.

If I’d been 22 or 23, I might have decided right then and there to take the plunge. If I was wandering the streets with a boyfriend instead of a street map perhaps I could have convinced him to dive into the West coast life with me, full speed ahead, no looking back.

Every now and again, a few years later, I still think about it.

But of course, I have already learned this lesson. I have made the big move, planned the last detail. I have packed those boxes, pushed forward into unknown territory, Uhaul in tow.

A city, no matter how fabulous, wonderful, and cosmopolitan it is can only love you back so much. No city calls you up and suggests you meet for brunch the next weekend or grab drinks after work. It's there for you, in a certain way - sidewalks at the ready, nooks and corners waiting to be explored, random adventures around random corners - but cities don’t necessarily invite themselves over when you’re feeling blue or drop by for a cup of coffee if they’re in your neighborhood. The older we get, the harder it is to move, to relocate, to break into new circles of friends. Roots get established and friendships are formed and life starts happening, wherever your address.

There are a handful of cities I love with all of my heart, and I’m sure in some ways they love me back. They're the ones that just “feel right” the minute I arrive, that fit me like a glove. I see a match, notice a spark between us. A part of me feels like she’s arrived home. I’ve left the biggest chunk of my heart in my hometown in New Jersey - oh, how I miss it. Another piece of her is in New York City, and of course, I left my heart in San Francisco.

But not all of her.

There’s one city where I have truly planted roots as a grown up, one where I can rest my head at night knowing I’ve got good friends just a phone call away. She’s the one I know like the back of my hand, the one I've lived and moved throughout, the one I can navigate subways, bus routes, cars, and even MBTA bus drivers through. She's the city I find myself taking for granted every once in awhile because she’s always been there for me – even as a scared, nervous, seventeen year old girl longing to find some sense of place. She's the one I always come back to, the one I never realize how much I miss until I'm away.

Boston.

She'll always have a place in my heart, and I hope by now I have one in hers.

And you know? Were a hotel next to my own apartment building? I imagine my kitchen would look pretty inviting from an outside window too.