I loved living in NYC and thought I'd stay forever. As my life changed, however, so did where I wanted to be.

• I'd always wanted to live in New York, and when I finally did, I felt like I'd won the lottery.
• I loved so much about the city and thought I'd call it home forever.
• However, as my life changed, so did where I wanted to live.

When I was in my early 20s, working at a tiny cheese and wine bar in Hell's Kitchen, my boss told me something I've never forgotten: New Yorkers aren't necessarily born in New York. They're born all over the world, but New York is in their hearts.

I knew exactly what he meant. New York had been in my heart for as long as I could remember. I first visited when I was 7, sleeping on the couch of my aunt and uncle's West Village apartment. I remember begging my mom for a fluffy pink scarf from a street vendor. She said yes, and I wore it proudly as we wandered the crowded sidewalks.

I loved the noise, the energy, the sheer number of people going about their lives. I loved that you could be almost anyone, dress almost any way, and still have to work pretty hard to be considered even a little bit weird. I decided then that I would live there someday.

Getting to New York felt like winning the lottery

When it came time to apply to colleges, I looked first at schools in Manhattan. Getting into Columbia felt like winning the lottery. I was the luckiest girl in the world, headed for the city I'd dreamed about since I was little.

After graduation, I spent a few years in Los Angeles and Philadelphia. Both had their charms, but when a job brought me back to New York, it felt like a homecoming.

I've always found something oddly soothing about New York's frantic pace. My brain moves quickly, bouncing between ideas, worries, and possibilities. The city seemed to operate at the same frequency. Its chaos somehow quieted my own.

I loved walking out my front door and immediately being in the middle of everything. I could spend an afternoon wandering without a destination and stumble upon a new favorite bakery, a strange little shop, or an unexpected conversation. Even after more than a decade, a million apartments, terrible bosses, tiny kitchens, and eye-watering rent, the magic never wore off.

Sometimes I'd be walking down the sidewalk, carrying groceries or rushing to meet a friend, and I'd look around and think, I live here. That lottery-winning glee never entirely disappeared.

Then my life began to change

In early 2020, as the pandemic upended the world, my husband and I left New York for rural New Jersey. We had a baby daughter and soon welcomed a son. Our days filled with diapers, naps, playgrounds, and the logistics of caring for two little kids. Instead of crowded sidewalks, we had a backyard. Instead of the subway, a car.

I loved the breathing room. But I missed New York fiercely: the spontaneity, the restaurants, the friends, the possibility waiting outside my door. I assumed we'd eventually find our way back. New York was still my favorite city. Surely that meant I was supposed to live there.

Then, in 2025, my husband's job brought us to Chicago. I was excited, but figured New York would always be the place I secretly wished we could return to.

Chicago gave me something I didn't know I was missing

We settled in Bucktown, a neighborhood of old brick houses, leafy streets, coffee shops, and families pushing strollers.

We walk our kids to school, see familiar faces at the playground, and walk the 606, an elevated trail through our neighborhood, stopping for tacos or ice cream. There's a farmers' market where I buy flowers and a bus to the Lincoln Park Zoo. Chicago has excellent restaurants, museums, and endless opportunities to explore. But there's also more room to move, less friction in everyday life.

I hadn't realized how much I wanted that.

Winter is long, and making a new home takes work. But I feel surprisingly rooted here.

I have the energy I loved about New York, alongside a neighborhood life that feels manageable with two young kids. I can have an ambitious career, wonderful meals, interesting friends, and adventure without every ordinary errand requiring a complicated plan.

I still love New York; I just don't need to live there anymore

On my last trip to New York, I was in town for a conference, staying in Midtown. One afternoon, I put on my headphones and walked down Broadway through Union Square and into The Village, a route I'd traveled a thousand times before.

I popped into Eataly for a gelato, weaving around tourists and people hurrying somewhere important. Music played in my ears, and my feet knew the way. I remembered the different versions of myself who had walked these blocks: the college student thrilled to be here, the aspiring writer figuring out what came next, the newlywed.

I missed my kids, back home in Chicago. I felt nostalgic for the city and those earlier versions of my life. But alongside that nostalgia was something unexpected: complete contentment.

I was so happy to be in New York. And just as happy that I didn't live there anymore.

The city hadn't lost its magic. I'd changed.

I wanted to walk my children to school, know my neighbors, and have space for the ordinary pleasures of family life. I wanted a city that felt exciting without making everything quite so hard.

For years, being a New Yorker was an important part of how I understood myself. I liked what it said about me: that I was adventurous, ambitious, curious, and willing to embrace a little chaos.

But those qualities didn't disappear when I moved away. I can still love New York, visit often, and feel a jolt of happiness every time I step onto its sidewalks. I can still be the little girl in the fluffy pink scarf, dazzled by all that possibility.

And I can be just as happy to go home to Chicago.