New York is flying to Albany, the first time I'd flown anywhere in ten years. It is taking a trip with a friend, the first time I'd gone anywhere with anybody who wasn't my family or my husband, on a plane or otherwise, to a place where family didn't meet me at the airport, ever. New York is a bit of an adventure.
New York is a sheep and wool festival. It is a lighthouse on the Hudson. It is hanging out with people who are way more niche than I am, way more focused on their craft, way more interesting than you would think when you say the words "sheep and wool festival."
New York is buying beautiful yarn from small mills. It is watching teams of spinners and weavers go from "sheep to shawl" in the course of a day. It is deciding that I want to do things like that.
New York is knowing how to do one small thing that opens up a larger world. I know how to hold knitting needles in my hands and manipulate them to create fabric. A scarf or a pair of fingerless gloves. I know how to make a sweater, even.
New York is about skills. Learning them and demonstrating them and perfecting them.
And then standing on the shore at the start of autumn and thinking about new ones.
Have I been to New York? Yes.