[Editor’s Note: This is the final post from our intrepid writer and Cedar Park resident Annamarya Scaccia, who brought her Brooklyn-born nose for news to West Philly seven years ago. Like many people in the neighborhoods this time a year she is moving on (in her case to graduate school). To her and to you we say goodbye and good luck. Thanks Annamarya.]
My fiancé, Dick, and I have this inside joke: If we find ourselves finally getting to know our neighborhood, we’ll find ourselves gone in a year or two.
It’s actually not as much of a joke as it is living truth. We’ve moved away from every community we’ve lived in within a short time after we’ve started to settle in — a process that would usually take months, if not years, after we’ve actually moved into a place. It’s not intentional in any respect; it’s an unconscious pattern we’ve just noticed. Maybe we have a serious case of undiagnosed wanderlust.
As of this week, we’ve found ourselves in that position once again. Even though we’ve lived in West Philly for seven years, we’ve really started settling down in the last two. And, like clockwork, we’re moving on, back to New York, where I’m from, so I could pursue grad school.
But this time, it doesn’t feel like just another moment in an inadvertent pattern. Instead, this time it feels like we’re leaving home.
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