I don’t think anyone reads this now; it’s been months since I posted last.
Tonight is the last night. The last night of my first year in Boston, the last night in my house in Medford. I’m sitting on porch, drinking the last of one of my roommates’ abandoned rum, looking at the half moon. I can see the bakers inside La Cascia’s across the street. I’ll miss living in a neighborhood where the air smells like bread.
A year ago today, I was getting ready to move to the East Coast. I knew that when I woke up from that night’s sleep, I’d be getting in my car, quitting my job at the hotel, and heading out for 24 hours of driving to settle somewhere over a thousand miles from my closest friends and family. I wasn’t scared; I was a little nervous. I was mostly excited. Moving to Medford for AmeriCorps was the most radical thing I’d done, the first time I felt like a real grown-up doing what it was I wanted to. I didn’t know what to expect, but the timing was right. I rarely, if ever, doubted my decision to come.
Now, I’m not sure how I feel about next steps. I’ll be moving into a new place on the first; tomorrow night I’ll spend on a friend’s couch. I’ve been temping; I’m waiting to hear about steady work. If I get a job, a salaried, steady one, I’ll stay in Boston for a bit. If I don’t… I may stay for a month. Or two. Or a couple of weeks.
The apartment I’m moving into is in the heart of Boston, right by downtown, in a brownstone building. The parking is gross, I’ll live on the T, and apparently you can see the Hancock building from my bedroom window. It’ll be living in Boston in a way what I’ve done the past year wasn’t. It’ll probably be fun.
I’m fighting the urge to hop in my car and go back to Kansas. Part of me yearns for the familiarity, the friends, the family, the comfort, the ease. I can take my time there, pay cheap rents, have friends to visit and want to see me. But part me isn’t ready to give up on Boston yet. I know I can come back, but I’m here now. I want to see this trip out.
I’m trying to see myself from point A to B. It’ll all be fine, if it’s hard right now. My car is packed, I ripped bits of skin off my fingers tying a futon to the roof of my car, and I’m not sure where next month’s rent is coming from. But it’ll be an adventure finding out. I now have two homes, and I’m trying to figure out where I should be right now.
One thing is for sure: I don’t regret coming here. It was a fabulous decision, and if I end up back in the plains in a couple of weeks, I can forever call Boston my home. I’ll cheer for the Sox, love that Dirty Water, and be a Modern Pastry over Mike’s girl. This fits. For now.
Things will work out and soon you’ll look back and wonder why this move was so stressful when the move to Boston wasn’t. I’ll be supporting you with whatever decision you make and look forward to hearing about the next chapter in your book.
I read it. It’s the only way I get to know what you are up to! Things will work out how they are supposed to. The fun is the journey along the way- but uncertainty can be stressful. Keep writing!