As we prepare for our first Christmas in our new home, I thought it appropriate to set it up with a Throwback Thursday. Originally posted on December 29, 2017, The Last Christmas in Manhattan recounts all of the emotions conjured this time last year. With reality setting in that we were going to move after our lease expired, my wife and I became sappy and nostalgic. We were coming to grips with how many memories we had made at 1737 York Ave. even though that particular unit wasn’t her first choice (and was really only mine because I’m economical).
Anyway, I don’t want to spoil it. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all!
Manhattan bustles in the holiday season with its mesmerizing storefronts and bright displays and deals that really aren’t deals at all, with its teeming streams of shoppers and sightseers, with its luminescent lights down Park Avenue that shine in the night.
I thought maybe we would get a little pristine snow and gander it before the machines taint it in grime. But, alas, that wasn’t the case. Just the sub-20 degree temperatures as my father-in-law sends me pics of the pool he’s next to in Florida.
This year, as my wife and I were about to set up our Christmas tree and decorate for the holiday that seems to come upon us quicker and quicker each year, we had a realization. This will be our last Christmas in Manhattan for the foreseeable future.
But, why would we leave the only place my wife has ever called home, a place where our closest friends and my wife’s family reside? Because most have to leave eventually, unless of course they want to rent their whole lives away or they have indispensable cash or are willing to buy and bet that Manhattan real estate value will continue to go up even if it appears it can’t go any higher. I think that’s called a bubble.