I had a go-see yesterday in Boston. Go-sees are essentially auditions, but for models. You go see the company and they go see if your image is right for the job.
While I was honored to get the go-see (since the client was a high end fashion conglomerate), I understand fully that it was a lot of work with absolutely no guaranteed payout. A typical go-see will look at 20-30 girls, only to pick 5. This particular go-see had 50 people scheduled. The odds are never in your favor (sorry, Katniss). But, still, I love going to go sees. I love going into Model Me and chatting up everyone around me. And I love going into my city. Most go-sees are in the Downtown or Back Bay Areas, which I consider as much my home as my own damn house.
However, there is a bittersweetness to my visits. While it brings me back to put on my headphones and listen to Augustana or Maria Mena and wander the streets, I recognize two big things: 1) As much as this feels like home, I will eventually leave to actually go home, and 2) The number of people I know who still live in Boston is now a staggering few.
High school friends who moved to the city have, for the most part, moved out, either back to our hometown or across the country. College friends have scattered across the globe; some in Florida, some in Colorado, some in California, and a bunch in New York. Work friends have relocated out to the suburbs. Even family who lived in Boston have moved.
This is my city, but it is a city that no longer knows my name. This is a city that houses a new generation of college kids, a new batch of workers. This is a city that doesn't care if you are coming or going (so long as you avoid the Storrow). Life has moved on. And I'm the prodigal daughter who returns but briefly.
I am forever a Bostonian. I was born here, I went to college here, and a piece of my heart will always be here, amidst Huntington Ave and Boylston, Mass Ave and Tremont. But, at the end of the day, I take the train out to the very end. Where my car awaits in the parking garage with its New Hampshire plates. Where I will drive to my actual home, and fall asleep in my actual bed. In a life that is night-and-day different from my life in the city.