Barrow

Michael and I moved into Barrow Street four years ago. We were engaged, though not yet married, and this made both of us a little uncomfortable. We were nervous about moving in together, having heard from many friends that the transition from dating to being roommates was a rough one. And we were making it harder by moving into a tiny studio in the West Village.

And two weeks after moving in, we looked at each other and said, "Isn't this fun?!" We spent our first New Years dancing in our new place, celebrating with champagne and Mariah Carey.

And then we got married, and had the Honeymoon from Hell, and worked through graduate school, and found jobs, and faced our first marital hurdles. We found regular walking routes, and made friends at the book store and at the gym and at Chipotle and at the dry cleaner and at the laundry. We got to know our neighbors.

In short, we made a home on Barrow Street.

Leaving this weekend was emotional and difficult. But I look to the future, remembering that (God willing) Michael and I will bring our first child into this new home. We will find new routes and make new friends. Our marriage will grow here, mature here, continue to thrive here. We will celebrate new milestones and savor this home as well.