Upon my arrival to NYC I was struck by the total chaos and confusion (and excitement) of downtown Manhattan. It was surreal, I couldn’t believe I was there. After pacing back and forth between signs and subway platforms to be sure I was heading in the correct direction, while also trying to appear confident and like I knew what I was doing, I finally arrived at my Airbnb.

The lockbox, empty, and the host, seemingly unbothered until he appeared from upstairs pale as a ghost. Oh no. The loft apartment had been vandalized the night before and he had been frantically repainting and trying to clean the damage. Why was I just then hearing about it? Who knows. I wish I would’ve gotten pictures of the insanity, but the moment was rushed and I was operating on little to no sleep.

Lately I’ve been working on being more “go with the flow” and he assured me I would have a safe space to sleep that night and there was a discount coming my way, so I hung out on the rooftop for a handful of hours. A couple mini panic attacks and one bag of popcorn later, the flat was live-able and I was in Brooklyn baby.

It took about two full days to get comfortable and used to the quirks of my new surroundings, exploring the nearby area‘s cafés and shops, I had already thrifted some amazing used vinyl and clothes. The grief of my recent loss comes and goes but always lingers just under the surface. Crying on the rooftop of an artist’s loft in NYC was not a bad place to be, though I would much rather my dog still be alive, only healthy and young of course.

My plan today was to distract myself and explore a little further into Williamsburg. It was a beautiful day, with perfect thrift finds and my one fancy meal of oysters and absinthe crème brûlée in the most beautiful patio garden. I don’t mind eating at restaurants alone, especially restaurants like that.

Afterwards I went to see the cityscape at the riverfront, there is something so magical about it. While heading back to my temporary home, I stopped at a Rite Aid to pick up nail polish remover and a Topo-Chico. Then I spotted it, a little Lamb Chop toy, only with the ears still on. Charlie loved to rip the ears and other parts from his toys. I couldn’t help but touch the fur. I got out of there as fast as I could.

Part of me felt guilty, how could I let myself have a good day? The betrayal. But Charlie was happy when I was happy. The pain of his absence and joy of my experiences exist simultaneously. I have to constantly remind myself that I’m going to be okay, and my emotions are valid. I love and miss him every day. Maybe Lamb Chop was a sign that he’s still here with me, always inside my heart.