Reflect.

Eleven years ago today, New York became my home.

I’d already lived there for nearly six months.

I’d learned the subway (sort of), and the concept of cross-streets (a little bit). I could get from home to work to happy hour and back again. I tried really, really, really (way too) hard to just fit in.

I made a routine, a PATH, a familiar walk.

And then that day, this day, a beautiful sunny Tuesday, I ran and cried and hid and clung to my friends and pressed redial and crossed a bridge and walked to Brooklyn and somehow found my way home.

Home.

All our stories are different, but they’re all exactly the same.

Yes, eleven years ago today, I became a New Yorker.

But didn’t we all?