Kettle Talkers, I’ve packed up my kettle and Earl Grey and am embarking on a new adventure. To mark the occasion I wrote a little something.
New York City Is A Cantankerous Old Lady With A Past
By Lydia Holt
She came up from down south and
from across the sea.
She helped out at her parents’ green grocer stand that grew into a thriving business until they lost everything on Black Tuesday and her father jumped to his death.
She has slept on the A train from end to end to pass a night.
She was once a Vaudeville chorus girl and, when times got really tough, a Times Square girl. …
It happened. It actually happened. A few months ago when the husband broached the idea of moving to Iceland I was shook, as the kids say. I felt (and will probably continue to feel off and on) scared and anxious and my muffin of a husband gave me the space to feel my feelings. I poured myself many cups of tea and called my momma, because that’s what you do when the shit hits the fan both literally and figuratively. She assured me that no matter what we decided to do — regardless of if, when or where we moved — everything would be OK. Perhaps it was her reassurance that helped nudge me in the right direction but soon after that I felt a weight lifted from my shoulders. When had I decided that I was incapable of changing my life’s course? I had locked myself into the mentality that my life could only be lived in New York and nowhere else and when I asked myself, why? I didn’t have an answer. New York is wonderful in many ways but it was bleeding us dry. Rent, health insurance, RENT and the cost of just about everything else is sky high in New York. The cost of living is also high in Reykjavík but when healthcare is dirt cheap, activities for the kids cost almost nothing and we have family here, our quality of life improves considerably. …