811
August 11, 2024
To my ex from college,
Two Sundays ago, I woke up early, and the first thing I thought of was that I wanted to go outside and do something, but I didn’t know what yet. I kept to myself until I decided where to go. I exercised, stretched, took a shower, and got dressed. Mom walked into my room and asked, “Hey, where are you going?” I instinctively said, “I want to walk along the water somewhere. Maybe by a pier.” I think subconsciously I was thinking about a pier because I had seen a pretty video on Instagram of Pier 35 not too long ago, and I wanted to explore it for the first time. I didn’t plan how to get there, but all I knew was that the Metro North train by my house would arrive in ten minutes, so I rushed out the door and told myself I would just figure out the rest of the journey from the train.
Once I arrived at Grand Central, I took the 6 train downtown for a few stops and got off at Bleeker St. My phone said to transfer there to the downtown F — to East Broadway. At first, I didn’t think about it — I was just following directions. It wasn’t until I got on the F that I asked myself why East Broadway felt familiar. As the train made one of its abrupt stops, I lost my balance and jolted forward — it hit me that I was heading to your neighborhood. I softly smiled and thought about why I felt called to visit Pier 35 and why I was led to your neighborhood years later. Of course, I have no idea if you or your Mom still live there, but I told myself to accept that I might see you.
I exited the train, followed the signs for Madison St. & Rutgers St., went up the stairs to leave the station, and was welcomed by the sight of your building. I had to hold my composure and not laugh because that experience was so real and unreal at the same time. Ironically, I didn’t feel nervous being there; I felt calm. I walked down Rutgers St. for about six minutes towards the pier while remaining across the street because I didn’t want to walk on the same block as your building. As I walked, I kept looking at the front steps, the doors, and the windows on the higher floors. I wondered if you were relaxing upstairs, or perhaps on your way downstairs to walk your dog, or if you were elsewhere.
I arrived at Pier 35, walked along the water, and enjoyed the views. I wasn’t there for too long because I started to get hungry. From across the water, I saw the carousel at Dumbo, so I told myself to go there and grab a bite at The Time Out Market. I walked back to the F train and saw your building once more. Only this time, I walked slower to take it all in. I thought about how our Mothers worked so hard for us to live good lives — during our humble upbringings. I don’t know where you are or what you’re up to, but I’d like to assume that we’re both happy and successful, even as we navigate the ups and downs of life. I’m proud of us.
At Dumbo, as the sun descended, I sat on a bench and peacefully watched the sky change colors from blue to lilac to orange-pink. The sky’s reflection looked beautiful as it bounced off the water and the buildings — the skyline, Brooklyn Bridge, and Manhattan Bridge looked like Lego pieces in a puzzle. At one moment, I closed my eyes while the breeze blew my hair past the side of my neck and away from my face. Memories of us crossing those two bridges came to mind — I always thought it was symbolic for us to do that. We tried our best to overcome the challenges in our relationship with what little we knew at the time — to move through our mistakes and cross over to the other side. It feels freeing to think of you — I’ve learned to let go of negative memories and instead embrace the positive ones. I kept looking over the water and thinking, I was just over there — in your neighborhood. Now I’m over here — on the other side of the bridge.
I eventually made it home and the apartment was empty; Mom was still out enjoying her girls' night. I turned on my TV to play Billie Eilish’s new album on YouTube and her song, “Birds of a Feather,” started to play. I sat down and pulled out my phone to look through the pics I took at Dumbo — and just like that — my mascara streamed down my face and my tears came crashing down like waves. There was something beautiful about feeling so close to you. I’m only in New York for the summer and I was meant to experience visiting your childhood home while I’m here. It’s been years since we’ve seen each other, yet whether I’m in New York, my new home of Chicago, or anywhere in the world, you are there with me.
Three years ago, before I moved to Chicago, I thought I could just “leave you in New York” because I had moved on from our breakup and created closure for myself. While I won’t discredit my work towards healing, I admit I was wrong about something — it’s impossible to “leave you in New York.” Believe it or not, your name welcomed me to Chicago. Hear me out:
You shared the same name as the guy who delivered my couch to my first apartment.
I looked for a keychain with my name in a souvenir shop at Navy Pier, and the chain with your name was right next to mine, but ‘J’ doesn’t come after ‘C’ alphabetically.
Your name is unisex, so a chef in a restaurant called me by your name because she mixed up my lunch order.
I met a celebrity at a movie screening who has your name.
For months, your name was on a billboard down the street from where I lived, specifically on top of my bank.
When I dated my ex from Chicago, he made a new close friend who also shares your name.
The list of examples is endless — trust me, I wish I was making this stuff up.
Your birthday (811) and the anniversary date we shared (211) still appear everywhere for me. Years ago, I questioned why I kept getting signs of you with a confused and frustrated attitude. I’ve learned to let go, open my heart, and happily receive signs of you — maybe you’re meant to support me on my journey from a distance, and for some reason, the Universe wants to remind me of that. I believe you want the best for me, just like I want the best for you. If you see my name or anything that reminds you of me, it’s because I’m on your side, sending you good energy, and wishing you well.
As Billie’s lyrics say:
I knew you in another life
You had that same look in your eyes
I love you, don’t act so surprised
-Carla
P.S. When Mom came home that night, I shared that I saw your building and she didn’t seem phased because she knew I had seen signs of you this summer. Yesterday, she played 811 and 211 in the lotto. Can you believe 211 was drawn for midday? You helped us win! Thank you for that.
Oh, and one more thing — Happy Birthday! I hope you celebrate yourself and spend time with loved ones today. Cheers!
