the time of year for transitions.
March, 2013.
A move from the small town I grew up in to a new city two hours away where I knew just one person, and only a little bit.
A move from a job I'd kept past college that I was trying desperately to get out of.
A move to a new job that paid almost double, that allowed for long walks outside and freedom.
A move from my childhood home to an apartment on the West Side with two strangers from Craigslist.
A move to everything new.
March, 2013.
March, 2016.
A move from this new city I'd called home for the last three years.
A move from my stable job at an Ivy League University, a solid relationship with a really great guy, a third-floor apartment with big sunny windows and old wooden floors, a community of dear friends.
A move to the other side of the globe, by myself, where I didn't know a single person.
A move from all my belongings in the world to a single backpack and two simple suitcases.
A move that would contain so many other moves.
March, 2016.
March, 2018.
A move back to the other side of the globe.
A move that would leave behind all conceived notions of adulthood and 30 and stability and societal expectations.
A move back to so much familiar and so much unknown, all at the same time.
A move that I am still understanding.
March, 2018.
what is the weight on your life. look for it. and when you find it. the thing that is resting on top of you. grieve it. and let it go. - nayyirah waheed
