Dateline Boston — A few years ago, I wrote about going to my college roommate’s home and discovering it had changed. I had a hard time with that. It has happened again, only in my own childhood neighborhood.

I have a love/hate relationship with New York City. I was born and raised there. Yes, in the city. Manhattan; Upper West Side. When I say that to people, they say, “Ooh!” I have to explain that it wasn’t “Ooh” in the ‘70s. Actually, I liked it that way. That was the city I knew.

One or more members of my family has lived in the same apartment for nearly 50 years. When I was a kid, there was a nut shop around the corner where we used to get cashews, sticks of candy in at least 20 flavors, and apricot fruit leather. The store smelled like nuts, and was warm all the time. It was cozy.

Across the street was Food City, the local supermarket. The meat displays had cabbage leaves made of plastic, and the exit of the store was always very cold for some reason. Instead of automatic rollers to push your groceries forward, there was a metal frame with a well-worn wooden handle that the cashier would push forward, scooping your groceries closer to her. Our groceries mostly consisted of Swanson’s TV dinners (salisbury steak, or veal and spaghetti for me, chicken and mashed potatoes for my dad) and beer.

Two of My Favorites

There was a Woolworth’s one block away, and an independent bookstore a block away in the other direction. I spent a lot of time in both places.

There was one gourmet food store, Zabar’s, and next to that, Beck’s drug store. On the adjacent corner was H & H Bagels, where people lined up to get fresh bagels every day. I got plain ones and chocolate milk, sitting on the step outside of our building to enjoy my treat while I watched people pass by.

Last week I went to the apartment, which is currently occupied by my brother and sister-in-law. The nut shop is long gone; in its place is either a hair salon or a bakery. Food City is also long gone. Right now that space is a giant hole where a luxury apartment building will be constructed in the near future. Woolworth’s is now a DSW shoe store. Beck’s is gone, as is H & H Bagels. The only good thing about the area is that Zabar’s expanded to three stores, so at least that sight is familiar. Other than that, my old neighborhood is unrecognizable. For the first time while in New York, I missed Boston.

One thing that hasn’t changed, and it’s the thing I love the most, is the people. When I stepped onto the subway platform and saw throngs of strangers, I beamed. In five minutes I heard at least three different languages and saw two groups of people help each other. On the subway I was surrounded by people of different races, ages, and economic backgrounds. That’s how I grew up, surrounded by these people, but that’s sure not how I live today in my wealthy small town. I’m not wealthy; I rent, but I’m better off than my parents were. My town is mostly white, and there’s not a lot of talking to strangers. I miss talking to strangers. I miss hearing people say out loud what they think, often with a curse word attached. I miss people either laughing or rolling their eyes at something, and others joining in. In a city that’s so large, there’s a feeling of community there.

If I could have my way, I’d move the people of New York City to Boston. In the meantime, I’ll enjoy the quiet of my neighborhood here and go to Zabar’s as often as I can while in New York.

Ms. Vaillancourt may be contacted at snobbyblog@gmail.com