January was what I’d consider my first full month living in New York City, although I was in Tampa for one week to celebrate my Mom’s 80th birthday.

It felt like my first full month because I’d completed getting my apartment set up with furniture and the last of my belongings from Tampa, and I started getting out more in the community. I began volunteering at the USS Intrepid Air and Space Museum and I signed up for an acting class on Sundays.

I’m participating in one of Beth Bornstein Dunnington’s Performing the Story workshops and the theme is “The Romance Stories.” I’m not in a relationship, but I was inspired to write about a love that’s been sidelined for now – flying – and a new love: New York City. I’ll be performing my piece about flying on February 19th in our online show, but I also liked my New York piece, so I posted it here.

Living here so far has been a mix of emotions, mostly positive. There’s always something going on, and so much to take in using all my senses. I feel grateful for this opportunity to live in this incredible place.

I’ve also had times of feeling lonely and a little lost. I smile at the irony of having lots of time to devote to a relationship at a time now when I’m not in a relationship. This came to a head for me when I watched Episode Three of The Last of Us, on HBO. There was a beautiful story of a relationship between two people in the back halves of their lives, trying to survive the unimaginable and somehow finding love in the middle of it. I sobbed watching the show, as I long for a love like that. I’ve been single going on twelve years now, and I’ve yet to find the Frank to my Bill. Or the Bill to my Frank? It depends on the day.

The day after watching the episode, I lamented in my morning pages that I was tired of trying to find someone to love, that I’ve waited long enough for the Universe to provide, that I’m done being patient (I want patience and I want it now, lol). I wrote, “Why don’t I just give up hope I’ll ever find love again? I feel like maybe I should. If I don’t hope, then I won’t be disappointed. I don’t know. I think I need a dog.”

I closed my journal and made my morning coffee. I plopped down on the sofa and scrolled through Instagram. And this popped up:

The comment underneath was even more beautiful and resonant for me; it’s too long to include here but if you feel moved to check out the Instagram post, it is worth the read. The tears came for me after reading this post, because this is so true. Every day I walk through NYC, I fall in love. I love the people, the architecture, the energy, the clouds, the lights, the colors, the sounds, the music, the public transportation. Love IS everything around me. And I am Love.

I felt more hopeful after reading that. I felt like going for a walk, so I strolled down the High Line, and I saw this sign in a Chelsea gallery window:

Okay, Universe, maybe I won’t give up yet. And then, as if the Universe was putting a fine point on it, I saw this poem on Instagram:

So, the lesson I’m taking away from all of this is: if you need a sign from the Universe, open Instagram. And hold on.