(NOTE: This week, my blog will be about our trip to New York City to take our younger son to college at New York Conservatory for Dramatic Arts. This is both a physical and emotional journey for me and my family. Come along for the ride.)

I’m sitting in my fourth-floor hotel room in Queens, New York, looking at the New York City skyline. Wow.

After about 3 1/2 hours of sleep, we awoke at 4 a.m. to finish loading the car and making the long trek across six states to the largest city in the country. We said our goodbyes to our niece and the dogs, piled in the car, and drove… and drove… and made so many bathroom stops I lost count… and we drove.

Fourteen and a half hours later, we arrived in the bustling, exciting, hectic and amazing city.

Along the way, we were concerned that Zach was regretting his decision to move so far away… to an enormous city… for school. But somewhere between crossing over from New Jersey to driving through Little Italy to pulling into the Best Western City View in Queens, Zach had made peace with the decision.

“When I saw the skyline,” he says. That’s when peace arrived.

I can’t lie, I sighed relief when he said that. I’m not happy that he’s leaving, growing up or moving so far away, but I’m excited that he is pursuing his dreams. I’m happy he will have the chance to shoot for the stars without fear or inhibitions… in the greatest city on the planet (in my humble opinion, of course).

I’ve always wanted to live in New York. When I was younger, I envisioned my life unfolding in the big city, while I wrote books or for a magazine or just did what fulfilled my soul.

I think I’d still like to do that, but I’m not as brave as my son. Maybe my life is already mapped out for me. Maybe I’m too old or lack talent to make it here.

But I love the city.

I feel like my soul believes anything can happen here.

Perhaps it can.