In 2022, I lost my father, cousin and abuelita, back-to-back-to-back. For a while it was a cycle of work > sleep > work, while also fending off anxiety attacks, loneliness, self-isolation and car troubles. Crazy how living alone in "paradise" can quickly feel like a prison. But I persevered.
The next year, after everything calmed down, I flew back to the city to visit family and old friends. That's when it hit me.
"It was time to go home. There isn't much else out here for me anyway."
Yeah, Kaua'i is one of the most beautiful places on Earth, and I'm both extremely fortunate and grateful to have spent half of my adult life there. But I didn't have a lot of friends out there, or much of a life. It always goes back to this old quote I'd tell anyone who asked me about living there; "It's a good place to raise kids, it's a good place to retire, but it ain't a good place to live."
East Harlem, my old stomping grounds. Central Park North was just a block away. It is pretty different from when I left back in 2010, but some parts are still the same. Some of my family still lives here, so I still visit often.
A few of these are from Christopher Street, where I used to work!
Yeah, das' me.