I hail from Staten Island, New York—the borough that often feels like it’s stuck in a time warp. I always thought the pace of life here was a bit slow, but that realization hit a little harder when I spent four years away.
Never in my wildest dreams did I envision returning to my hometown, especially not with a little one in tow. It’s not that Staten Island is a bad place to grow up; it’s just that I felt I had outgrown it. But life has a funny way of leading you back to where you started. Here I am, back in my old neighborhood, and it’s oddly comforting to see how little has changed. The bakery I used to visit after school is still serving up treats, the barbershop remains on the corner, and the hardware store is just as I remember.
Sure, some businesses have come and gone, but they’re still fresh in my memory. Like the Sri Lankan restaurant that once was a dry cleaners where my friend’s mom worked, or the laundromat that used to be my go-to spot for sparkling soda. Just last month, the hair salon I frequented as a kid shut its doors.
Many of the places I visit with my son are the same ones that filled my childhood with joy. It’s magical to see him fall in love with these spots just as I did. Our neighborhood has a playground and a library within walking distance, which means we can have fun without venturing far.
I spent countless hours in our library, devouring books and attending events. I was a total bookworm and always left with a stack of the latest Baby-Sitters Club novels. While my son isn’t quite as obsessed with reading just yet, he still adores the library, often asking to go twice a week to enjoy the play area (one of the few improvements since my time). Sometimes he picks out a book, and I find myself nestled in a beanbag chair, surrounded by some of the same book racks from my past, reminiscing about how magical it all felt.
He loves being outside and begs to visit the playground almost daily. The very park we frequent is the same one I explored with my dad. On adventurous days, we hop on the bus to another park that was a favorite of mine as a child, and here’s the best part: neither park has changed much in over 20 years.
That giant slide at the farther playground? I swear it’s the same one I zoomed down as a kid. Now, my son has bravely started going down by himself while I stand at the bottom just like my mom used to. We swing together, with him perched on my lap, urging me to go higher. “Faster, Mommy!” he squeals, clutching the swing’s chains.
After playtime, we stroll by the lake, tossing Cheerios to the geese and ducks—always the highlight of our outings. In summer, he runs through sprinklers in the same spot where I remember slipping and scraping my knees.
Among all our favorite spots, the Children’s Museum holds a special place in our hearts. It’s almost identical to what I remember from my childhood. Sure, some things have changed, but the room he loves most—“Block Harbor” with its colorful blocks and reading nook—remains just as I left it. Walking in with him felt surreal, like stepping back in time. The nostalgia washed over me as we played together, reminding me of how much I adored that space. It’s often where we spend most of our time, and I’ve had to carry him out in tears when closing time arrives. Sometimes he feels so different from me, but moments like this reveal our bond.
Sharing these experiences with him and seeing the same cherished places through his eyes is a joy. To me, they’re reminders of my past, but for him, they’re brand new adventures. I hope he creates lasting memories, and perhaps one day he’ll return with his own kids, sharing stories about the places he grew up, leaving them in disbelief.
Even though I never expected to find myself back in my hometown, I am grateful for the chance to create these special memories with my son.
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Summary:
Returning to Staten Island to raise my son has been a nostalgic and heartwarming experience. The familiar places from my childhood provide a comforting backdrop for our adventures, from the library to the playground. Sharing these moments with him allows me to relive my memories while creating new ones. Despite not envisioning this path, I’m grateful for the opportunity to bond with my son in the same beloved spots I cherished as a child.