It was snowing. A lot. The missionaries came to help us move furniture into our Lower East Side 4th-floor walkup. Stanton Street. Loved it.

It snowed the rest of the night. A two-foot drift settled upon the streets and top-hatted the cars.

My lower back and quadriceps were very sore the next day.

I wandered the city. Instantly fell in love.

Found adventure everywhere.

Found every adventure.

Eventually found friends.

Great ones.

The kind I didn’t think I’d ever be able to make again since high school.

And opened my heart.

Years passed.

Then I had to leave.

Somewhere else now.

And I have to do it again.

Build.

How else am I going to survive?

How else am I going to be happy?