It’s not goodbye, It’s see you later

The moment I boarded the plane to leave New York City for St. Louis, it felt like I was tearing a part of myself away. NYC had been my heartbeat, my home, my constant, my place of raw energy and endless possibility. I’d grown up in its streets, learned its rhythm, and thrived in its chaos. Leaving all that behind felt like stepping off a cliff into the unknown. New York wasn’t just a city; it was a feeling. It was the rush of walking down Broadway, the aroma of hand-pulled noodles wafting from the kitchens of Chinatown, the rumble of subway cars pulling into Grand Central, the quiet charm of art galleries in Chelsea, the flickering lights of Times Square after dark. It was the pizza on every corner, the endless events, the culture, the diversity. I could walk into any café, any bookstore, and feel a spark of inspiration. It was the place where I discovered myself, where I learned what I wanted out of life and out of a career.

But what really made New York home were the small, personal moments. I remember as a kid, running down the street with my friends at the first hint of warm weather, knowing that summer was around the corner. You could always tell by the sound, the unmistakable jingle of the Mr. Softee truck as it made its way down the block. And even when it wasn’t summer, when the cold made everyone else retreat inside, we’d still wait in line for that perfect vanilla cone with sprinkles. It wasn’t just about the ice cream; it was a part of the city’s pulse, a reminder that no matter the season, New York was alive and always moving forward. Those were the moments that made New York feel like home, and I didn’t realize how much I’d miss them until the day I had to leave.

Leaving the city wasn’t just about moving away from the places I loved. It was about leaving a part of my identity behind, the part shaped by the energy of the streets, the sound of the subway, the smell of street food, and the feeling of being surrounded by millions of people, each with their own story. For someone who had spent their entire life in the city, moving away for medical school in the Midwest felt like I was stepping out of a world I had known my whole life and into one I had yet to understand. I remember the last few days before I left, walking around the city one last time. I’d pass the familiar places, the corner deli where I grabbed my bagel, the park where I used to walk and chat with my neighbor. Everything felt so alive, yet I couldn’t help but feel a sense of finality. The thought of leaving it all behind weighed heavily on me. How could I leave the place that had shaped so much of who I am? But as I stood there, I realized that leaving wasn’t really goodbye. It was a “see you later.” Because in a city like New York, you never truly leave. A part of it stays with you, woven into your DNA, pulsing through your memories, echoing in the sounds of the streets. New York doesn’t forget you, and you don’t forget New York. It’s a place that keeps you grounded, that reminds you where you came from, no matter how far you travel.

The plane ride that followed was surreal. As the city shrank beneath me, I felt an overwhelming sense of loss. It wasn’t just the physical distance that felt daunting; it was the emotional space between me and the city that had been my home. But as the plane soared farther away, I knew that this wasn’t the end. It was just a new beginning, a journey that would push me in ways I never imagined, as I transitioned from the familiar chaos of NYC to the quieter, slower pace of life in the Midwest for medical school. New York had given me more than I could ever express in words. But now, it was time to carry the lessons it taught me, about resilience, about diversity, about never backing down, into the next chapter of my life. The city’s energy will always live inside me, helping me grow and pushing me to reach for my dreams.

And while the jingle of the Mr. Softee truck may not echo through the streets of St. Louis, the spirit of New York, its strength, its diversity, its unyielding pace, will always be with me. It’s not goodbye. It’s just a “see you later.” Because no matter where I go, New York will always be my home.