Odd Wishes

Last night, a friend and I had a conversation about odd wishes. I brought it up by saying that, weirdly, a small part of me wants to be in New York right now. I know that what's happening is scary and serious, but I often feel like New York is my city (albeit not one that I've fully lived in yet) and I am, in some ways, regretful I can't be there. In an alternate universe somewhere Other Olivia took the leap right after college and she's bundled up in her tiny Brooklyn apartment, watching the water rise and drunkenly reading Jane Eyre aloud with a Bennington roommate. I envy Other Olivia a bit, and not just because she gets to be day drunk reading Jane Eyre. I know that this is a big moment and a marker for my generation of New Yorkers. When I do finally make the leap, I won't have any Hurricane Sandy stories. I'll have been 3,000 miles away.
When I told my friend this, he said that he remembers feeling similarly during 9 -11. He was in Alaska teaching and felt like he was in foreign country. He told me that he wished to be in New York that day. He said that he is grateful no one he knows or loves was hurt in that great tragedy, but he still wanted to be there: be connected and a part of the national grieving. He felt removed and remote in Alaska, and he wished it wasn't so.
I know that anyone in New York now, or in New York 11 years ago, would tell the two of us just how silly we are/were being. That this is real life, not fiction, and we shouldn't romanticize it. That's not what I'm trying to do, but maybe it's what I'm doing anyway?