the move

I feel the need to go back and start with my recent move. Leaving New York and Brooklyn in particular, was a lot harder than expected. I was excited and anxious to start a new adventure but that final push to get on the road and start my journey was endless. One issue was stuff, belongings. I could only take the belongings that fit in my car and that car is smallish. I felt like I was playing the memory game, “I’m going on a trip and I’m going to bring…” Needless to say, a lot was left behind. I did manage to stuff my car to the brim, not an inch of space to spare. It made the long drive to West Palm Beach seem even longer and more uncomfortable. Imagine having to sit in the last row on an American Eagle flight, in the middle seat with a lap child next to you and having to fly the plane from said seat, for 24 hours straight. It was comical and a little dangerous; sorry mom, I know you worried. I got a lot of glances from passing cars and trucks and way too many, “So, you’re moving?” at each rest stop. What gave it away, the lampshade, boxes, Vermont license plate in Virginia? Harmless enough questions, I know, but the sleep deprived me grew tired of it. Though, I never grew tired of my response, “heading to St Thomas” would always bring a smile back to my sleepy disposition. I finally made it to southern Florida after endless refills of bad coffee and trail mix. I arrived at my sister’s house at 5:30 in the morning. I took a shower, she poured me a glass of wine and I climbed into her bed. Her alarm went off 20 minutes later.

The new state

3 weeks ago I moved to an Island. I was already living and working on islands, Long Island and Manhattan Island respectively. Though these islands are not what come to mind if I were asked to close my eyes and picture one. My mind’s eye would gaze upon palm trees shimmering in the cool breezes of ocean air. So, that is where I find myself now. I am living on the north side of St Thomas, on the outer edge of a peninsula where palm trees, blue waters and beaches of scattered islands make up my landscape.
I moved here for a new job. I am creating a service center to repair luxury watches for one of the leading retail establishments in the Caribbean. We are in the process of building a state of the art facility, outfitted with the same Swiss machinery and tools used in the best Swiss watchmaking factories in the industry.
I also moved here for a new way of life. After over 17 years of dwelling in urban environments, I am getting back to nature. Most of my free time will be spent out of doors. Sharing a running path with iguanas, picking mangoes from a tree, swimming the clear blue green water’s of Magen’s Bay. Learning to sail, surf, paddle board, get over my irrational fear of sharks; these are on my to-do list.
I love the irony of my new situation. I move to a place where “island time” rules. The pace here is relaxed, mellow, no need to rush or stress. Things get done when they get done. Which I have been told, is eventually. And I am a watchmaker. Keeping time, accurate, precise, is what I do. I imagine my days in the service center will not be unlike the work I have done in other service centers over the years. But now, I won’t be leaving at the end of the day for a subway ride shared with millions. I will be taking a brief car ride over a small, tropical mountain and down to the north shores of St Thomas. Time will stop as I swim and run and play outside.