It was New Year’s Eve and I had been invited to two different parties. One in Brooklyn and one in Harlem. One had a peer group of friends my age, the other would be filled with old timers. I’ve often yearned for peer groups, I don’t know if had anything to do with being an only child, or an immigrant, but it was a thing. So I decided to go to the party in Brooklyn and hang with folks my age.
Within and hour of being there, I had a strange sensation that I was in the wrong place. Nothing felt right. My friends were there, but everything seemed just a little off. Enough that just before midnight I excused myself, hopped in my car and drove straight to Harlem.
I walked into the joint in Harlem and felt right at home. I was the only person from my generation in the whole place, but it didn’t matter. I was in the right place.
Sometimes where we want be to isn’t the place we need to be. It’s okay to leave. The more important thing is being in the right place.