Its spring in Williamsburg-- my second spring. As I walk to quiet streets of Williamsburg, now lined with fruit trees in full bloom, their white bursting flowers remind me of my favorite song to sing in primary.
One summer long ago, I taught Sunbeams instead of attending the single's ward. And on my last Sunday, I got to pick which song to sing, and I chose "Popcorn Popping," which as any Mormon child knows, is about springtime and Apricot trees. It seems appropriate that that goodbye song is on my mind.
I'm leaving Williamsburg, moving back to Manhattan. And I am feeling a little nostalgic now that I am leaving this place. While living here there were many things that bothered me about Williamsburg--chiefly the "run down" appearance, which the hipster community has perpetuated, because they like feeling like they live in a gritty neighborhood, though Williamsburg is completely safe. (It is that pretentiousness that is probably my least favorite thing about hipsters).
I am going to miss the way Williamsburg is never super busy, even on the weekends when the hipster flock to their mecca.
I'll miss the flea market-- though the local yuppies are finally taking over the neighborhood and have kicked the flea market out, starting this summer.
I'll miss how the place is dotted with tiny restaurants with excellent food. Where else will you find a Hawaiian fusian restaurant?
I'll miss the street art. The murals painted on the walls. The graffiti sprayed everywhere-- even on a tree or two. The way art is celebrated. Drawings on paper pasted places. Quirky graffiti-- with mysterious sayings, not just foul language. (There is one right by my house about "cartoon bacon, real tears.")
I know I can come back and visit, just take the M or the L over the river, and I'll be here. When I moved here, almost 2 years ago, I hated it. I wanted out, and to never come back. But now, I think I will come back. To shop the flea market (if the hipsters win that war, and get it back), to see my favorite view of Manhattan. To try a yummy restaurant that you'll find no where else on earth-- because the owner is a hipster, fresh from college, with some crazy idea about food, that no one else has ever tried.