We are $6000 poorer but one rental apartment richer. Starting April 1, you must come over and live in our backyard, because did I mention we have a backyard? And a washer-dryer that’s ours, just ours? Free laundry — now that’s worth $6000, just by itself.
I’m feeling nostalgic about Brooklyn Heights already. You’ve been a lovely neighborhood, Brooklyn Heights, or, as I’ve called you, Barely Brooklyn, or One-Foot-in -Manhattan Brooklyn. Still, I feel like we’ve taken full advantage of you. We’ve eaten at your restaurants, even the overpriced ones on Henry St. and the aggressively mediocre ones on Montague; we’ve crossed and recrossed the Brooklyn Bridge; we’ve watched the fireworks from the promenade. We’ve prayed in your one small Conservative synagogue. We’ve paid homage to the scattered statues of neighborhood hero Henry Ward Beecher. We’ve pointed out the Statue of Liberty to visitors and mooned over the beauty of the brownstones, and now it’s time to move on.
Farewell, happy peaceful bourgeois neighborhood! Farewell, Egyptian greengrocer who knows our names and once asked me if I was Jewish and then, later, whether Jews were allowed to celebrate Thanksgiving. Farewell, Sahadi’s and Perelandra! Farewell, kind neighbor with whom we share wireless internet and occasionally access to cable TV! You’ve been good to us and we’ll miss you.
Hello, Target, Beacon’s Closet, Oko, and to having more than one room! Hello, doors! Doors EVERYWHERE. I’m going to spend the first couple weeks opening and closing them just for the sheer wanton hell of it.