Ran into our friends who moved to Nyack almost a year ago at the Rickie Lee Jones concert in Prospect Park.

I didn’t see them until the concert was over. Big Rickie Lee fans, they’d left the kids in their Victorian house with a babysitter and were spending a relaxing evening with Brooklyn friends, picnic-ing on the grass at Celebrate Brooklyn.

After the show, we walked back to Third Street together, where they’d parked their car.

I told them how much the neighborhood had changed since last summer. And it’s really true. It feels like so much has gone on since, say, September. Brooklyn is it: the development capital of New York City. Condos, Whole Foods, Ikea, Cruise ships, a Richard Meier building, a controversial stadium for a basketball team and more.

What a long, strange year it’s been. And our friends weren’t here to see it with us. They were in Nyack, spreading out in their spacious new digs. But it was a year of adjustment for them: L. overcame her fear of driving. M. learned how to be a commuter.  Their son had to make new friends at a new school and find new activities to be part of.

Back in Brooklyn, we watched our borough undergo tremednous change. It seemed sudden, but maybe we weren’t paying enough attention before. 

Matt joked, "Now that us schleppers have moved out, someone decided it’s really time to go upscale around here." As if on cue, a bright yellow Porsche appeared on Prospect Park West.

"Look at that. That’s a real upscale car," he yelled.

Approaching Sette on Third Street and Seventh Avenue, they looked stunned: obviously no-one had told them about Third Street’s new eatery.  They were fascinated by the restaurant’s sidewalk patio.

"Wow, the old Christmas tree spot. An outdoor cafe is actually the perfect use of this corner," M. said.

Then they looked across the street and saw the new Miracle Grill. I thought they might faint. There really are a lot of changes since last year. M. said something wistful like: when you move away from a place, they should leave everything exactly the same. Frozen. So that it’s always there for you.

I asked them if they wanted to walk in front of their old building and
see the window boxes they’d left behind for the people who had bought
their coop. L. seemed a little aprehensive at first as if seeing the old place might get in the way of her sucessful adjustment to life in that small town on the Hudson.  But she braced herself and walked bravely down Third Street.

When they got to the building, they were very still for a moment. I could see that L. was quietly taking it all in: her window boxes, the other window boxes, the stone planter, a new location for the benches. There were even silk flowers on the gate down to the basement. There was so much to see.

"The boxes are doing well. And I like where they put the benches. Right in the middle of the yard…"

She stared up at her old window probably reliving the days (less than a year ago) when her family of four was still living in such cramped quarters. At least, that’s what I guess she was thinking. I really don’t know.

They came upstairs to our apartment to say hello to my husband, to have some tea. It was rushed as they had to get back to Nyack: the babysitter had to be relieved.

"If you lived across the street, you’d be home by now," my husband joked. And they looked only mildly amused.