One:

It was Friday in Paris and the sky was turning grey. Mark popped his favorite Port wine and poured us two glasses. His apartment was flooded with light that wandered in through the open windows from all sides of the studio. Cigarettes burned away to ash while we started discussing Mark’s semester abroad.

I was curious to find out the reason for coming to Europe and particularly why the city of Paris? With one more long drag of his cigarette he took a moment to answer. “Studying here was more than anything an exploration of not only myself but my personal style,” he proclaimed without an utter of doubt. It seemed that the only way learning was to occur called for a drastic change in scenery. Mark stressed that understanding of oneself is insufficient without understanding oneself in comparison to others.

Mark has always understood himself as a New Yorker. He knew from the moment he started breathing the peculiar city air ever since he was a young boy. He has forged a long journey since then to achieve his strong sense of self and was certain that his next move had to contain high risk and uncertainty. By parting with his studio apartment in Manhattan and bidding adieu to his close friends, reality began to set in. And as the plane took off from JFK he recalls the stream of tears that fell from his eyes as he watched the lights of his city drift out of sight.

“I have never in my life felt homesick before. As a child all I wanted was to run away from the chaos of my hometown. But now, after finding the one place [New York] I love more than anything in this world, parting with it becomes more difficult than anticipated.”

Mark shares that it took only a month to unveil the fantasy he had fueled for many years of Paris. Life in the city of lights was far too slow paced. He finds that the city relies heavily on history and rumors of romance to attract international attention; when in fact it is one of the most melancholy cities in Europe.

“Part of what makes living in New York City so exciting is the hustle. Anyone who has lived there even for a wrinkle of time knows exactly what I mean. It’s the aggressive attitude to get things accomplished, making every moment count. Being a true New Yorker entails that this constant hustle invigorates you each waking day.”

As our conversation turned into laughter I asked Mark to tell me what has been on his mind lately, something that he has come to realize more so now than before. He replied, “If home is where the heart is than mine has never left New York City.”

 

Two:

As I was about to hang up the phone with Mark stating my authority over how much of him I already knew, he quickly snapped back, “I bet what you would write about me is very different than how I would describe myself.” There was an immediate truth to be reckoned with, yet I knew there was no rational way of alleviation. My perception of him will in fact always be a certain one, one I get to treasure as his sister. To many Mark may come off as an intimidating know-it-all type of guy who we all envy. He gives off a confidence that is perceived at the very moment he starts to speak. But maybe I’m wrong and this is in fact my perpetual sister-blindness. Maybe others just see him as outspoken, always having an answer, and just a little too honest. But I on the other hand will always feel a daunting sense of living up to his abilities—to articulate and carry a sense of pride in one’s self. There is a very evident big-brother role that my sense of Mark can never detach from. However, I have to think Mark would agree that he owns these qualities of being my guiding light as he calls me with urgency to ask me about my future plans. “Do not stay home this summer, you will be miserable, trust me,” he advises, “Just take some summer classes and look up EHS housing, that’s what I did my freshman year.” He has a plan before I’ve even come close to thinking of one. Some may say overbearing, but it’s the care and concern that always comes through. In a time where the world is full of possibility and many decisions to be made, Mark becomes a relief where parents fall short. Though he may disagree with my perception of a nurturer and protector, he is nothing less than what it means to be a great brother.

 

Three:

It was the day of Mark’s departure and his flight for Paris was leaving in four hours.The sky was overcast and dull, just enough to draw a tear from your face. Mark was getting ready to say goodbye to his studio apartment, packing the last of his books into his small rectangular suitcase.  He had grown attached to this place, spending the past five months making careful decor selections.The plastic blue zebra head that hung above his fireplace was the final touch to call it home. When I arrived on Chrystie I was welcomed with an overwhelming sense of dread, I found Mark sitting amidst darkness.

“Why are you sad?” I said curiously as I replayed Mark’s endless talk of Paris during the prior months. “I have to leave my apartment, New York, and my friends behind today,” he sighed. “But you were so excited for Paris…” I reasoned. “I am excited,” he reassured me, “But that doesn’t mean I won’t miss all that I have here.”

I came unprepared. Of course he has all these emotions before traveling thousands of miles away from the city that he has grown to adore and cherish. I couldn’t offer him any relief as I was saying goodbye to my brother, my safety, and certainty. His approaching absence had followed me throughout my days and almost brought me to tears on multiple occasions. Mark was my rock, my push when I needed a tap. A sense of collapse had rushed amidst both of us, our mutual sorrow hung in the air.

That night after three glasses of wine I stumbled to my window to look up at the midnight sky. Just as I thought I might have seen a star, it began to glide across their eastern depths. Maybe he’s in that one right there, I hoped. I stood there feeling the empty space that Mark had always filled. You will be okay, and so will I.

As he recollected months later, “I cried from the window watching the city lights escape me.” With a slight sense of relief, I knew—it was him that I felt, our souls as one.