I’m leaving New York.

It is amazing how quickly I can type those four words, say them, think them.  But the act of leaving won’t be as swift. And that’s exactly what I’m hoping for. For the past six years, I’ve rushed everywhere – to work, to dinner, to a yoga class, to catch a train.  “Rush” hours. And hours and hours.

So, I’ve got six weeks to go.  It’s the perfect amount of time.  Any less and my departure would be like ripping off a bandaid which has stuck to my skin for the better part of a decade.  Any more, and I might akin my move to a painstaking disembowelment.  Well, it might not be THAT bad.

For the first two, I’ll be at the office (aside from a quick trip to London).  On Friday, September 28 I will walk out of my office building at 6:00pm knowing that – on Monday – I won’t be going back.  And on that Monday, I’ll present myself with a new challenge: to discover what’s next.  What’s the best part of all of this?  There really isn’t a deadline. Sure, I’m leaving by October 31st, but I don’t need to have everything set by then.  Part of the allure and the charm is realizing that taking a breath or two… or three, well, it’s part of the process.

When I started this blog, back in September of 2006, I titled it “That Next Place.” And, here I am again. Right at the beginning.