"Home is where the heart is meant to be..."

Home. A safe-place. A heaven. A utopia. New York City.

At the end of October I spent a week in the city I like to refer to as home. It was my first visit, but I'd been wanting to visit for years. I knew I'd instantly fall in love, and not want to leave...and I did.

There was something about the city that just clicked with me. Maybe it was the tall buildings. Maybe it was the 'hub' like atmosphere it had there. Maybe it was Broadway. Maybe it was the parks surrounded by sky scrapers. Whatever it was, it made me want to stay even more. I thought 'fuck everything at home, this is where I want to be, why should I leave?'

Reality maybe? Money. Jobs. Visas. Seriously, would it even be a possibility.

I told my friend Sally as we walked from breakfast one morning: "I just feel so at home here."

She replied with: "Yeah, I could imagine you living here, it suits you."

My heart melted a little more. Who am I kidding? My heart melted A LOT!

All I know is, home is where the heart is meant to be, and I sure know my heart isn't meant to be here.

"The Age of Innocence?"

Recently, I've been getting to know this girl. She's funny, she's sweet, and when she smiles I smile. It can't be helped. "She's like this little bundle of fun, and that's what need right now" I told a friend over coffee at our favourite little coffee shop, just off one of the main streets in the city.

"Lately, my life has consisted of homework, timed essays, studying for the timed essays, university applications, worrying about the university applications, and heavy drinking sessions at various bars around the city on Friday nights. So, right about now, I could use a little fun and laughter". She smiled weakily, and I hastily added that my drinking sessions had been fun, realising I'd been with her for most of them. "I just need that change, you know?" trying desperately to dig myself out of the whole.

"Yeah, I know," she said, taking a long sip from her mocha.

As we left, she asked me "tell me more about Ella." To be honest, I didn't know a lot, but I wanted to know more. But I decided to wing it, and once my mouth opened, it wouldn't close.

"Well, she's a student at my school, blonde hair, smiley, just really warm."

"How old is she?"

SHIT! Alarm bells! How old actually was she? I knew she was younger than me, I could tell by the uniform. So that already added up to a year. Could it actually be two years? SHIT!

"Old enough..." I tried.

"How old Noah?"

"...two years younger than me." I looked away.

"TWO YEARS...Noah."

"It's honestly not that bad." I lept in. It wasn't that bad, giving it more thought. "I'm the youngest in the senior class, by a lot, and she, I think, is one of the oldest, so it can only be a year and a couple of months." I later found out it was. My birthday being end of August, hers end of April.

"Noah...I won't judge, but think about it." And with that, we went looking for a birthday present for a friend's birthday our memory had temporarily misplaced.