The weather was beautiful a few nights ago, and when I got home from work, Mike mixed up a drink and we sat out on the stoop to enjoy the early spring air and waning sunshine.

Maria Julia, our neighbor two doors down, was out walking Kimbo, one of her sweet old dogs. They ambled up the street, fuzzy mop-like dog leading the way, and they stopped in front of our gate so Kimbo could sniff sniff sniff at the tree in front. We chatted, as we do, about the weather and other things, and Maria Julia said to us, pointing her finger in a teasingly assertive way, "You can't move! You need to stay here!"

And it was at that point we had to tell her. "... but we are" I said. She looked at us, hands on her hips, and Mike said "We're moving. Next month." She got this dejected look on her face and said "Ah." Then raised her hands toward us as if to blow us kisses and said "I love you!"

She wished us good night and continued walking the dog.

We finished our drinks and went back inside.

The lump in my throat hasn't quite gone away yet.

The reality of what we're doing has hit me like a ton of bricks tonight. I'm a mess, and while I know, with complete certainty, that our move is the right thing, the right place at the right time, I'm mourning all of the beautiful things we will leave behind. I feel like I have about a million posts churning around in my head, and I'll try to collect my thoughts enough to get them out.

Read more here.

On April 1st, we'll pick up the keys to unlock this door and move the first of our belongings inside. On April 22nd, we'll say goodbye to Bushwick and to the first home we shared, and will embark on the next chapter of our life together in Providence, Rhode Island.

We've talked about leaving for a while now. As many things as we love about this city, the reality of living here, the day to day grind has just gotten to be too much. Physically, emotionally, psychologically, it's exhausting. We're tired of feeling like we work so hard to gain so little. We want to talk about whether or not we want to raise a child - it's a conversation we can't even begin to have while we live here, because there's no way we could do it here, and after hearing about what others deal with, I'm not convinced I'd want to. I'm sure that all of this makes me terminally unhip, but screw it. I want a better life for us, and I can't see how that's going to happen while we live here.

The neighborhood has gone through some changes since we moved in, and though many have been positive, I've felt a real unease lately. We've had our issues with long-term residents and newbies alike, but we've been lucky to have avoided any serious problems. However, we saw a guy get jumped across the street last week while he was walking home from the train at 7:30 in the evening, and it rattled us both. It was the first time I have ever felt unsafe in our neighborhood, and frankly, I believe it is just another in a series of signs that we are doing exactly the right thing by moving on.

I will miss the friends that we made here. I will miss the beautiful details of our apartment - the big windows and wide plank hardwood floors. I will miss the Greenmarkets, wine shops, cheesemongers and restaurants we frequent and love. I'll miss our little colony of feline friends probably most of all - thinking about not seeing their little faces every day brings tears to my eyes already - but they will be well cared for by our neighbors.

I won't miss the struggle - the crowded trains, people pushing, shoving, so aggressive and angry, the complete lack of common courtesy I see displayed so often. I won't miss the noise, the spitting, the trash strewn on every corner, the buses and fuel tankers and sanitation trucks racing up our street at all hours of the night.