As a kid, we came into the city once or twice a year to see a show and eat dinner at Sardi's. Everything seemed so big to me then. So untouchable. I remember looking up at skyscrapers and wondering what it would be like to work in offices high above a busy city.

And I remember walking next to my dad, telling him that I would live in New York one day (I'm sure his response was something about how dangerous the city is). I think of that conversation a lot. How my ten-year-old self knew so little of what was to come. It's a conversation that I relived the day we signed the lease on our apartment. The day I was hired. The early mornings when I leave for the office and the late nights walking under street lamps next to our community garden. 

The other night we revisited Sardi's. Everything was smaller, more familiar. Still beautiful, in a way that only places from your childhood can be.