City Girl Gone Wandering
Well, I did it. I got on the plane.
Last night, I flew into San Diego to begin my transition week. My flight was a mess (delayed several hours because two of our flight attendants were trapped in Atlanta from the Polar Vortex) but eventually we took off and now I am here. It’s all happening.
I haven’t done much with the city yet, but already I feel sound in the decisions I have made for myself. After my arrival, my friend and I sat around his fire pit (because that is an actual thing that people have at their homes) and drank a few beers.
Today, I got groceries, enjoyed a cup of coffee under a beautiful tree in his back yard, and listened to the sound of the wind bouncing through the city.
I’m not sure what adventures this transition week has in store for me, but they are certain to be glorious. This weekend we are heading off to Joshua Tree to dance in the desert and do some rock climbing and repelling. Do you know how many years it’s been since I’ve done any of that? Yeah, neither do I. Too many, that’s for sure.
This last week it felt as though my heart was in a continuous state of breaking. I described it to my friend as the feeling that I had purposefully taken a saber and stabbed myself in the chest, twisted it, taken it out, and stabbed myself again.
When I began twirling these ideas of Hawaii and travel around in my head six months ago, I knew that the change would be difficult. I did not, however, realize just how much. Leaving New York—giving up my life and my loves—was one of the most emotionally devastating things I have ever done. But now I am here, and already I feel better. Now I remember what led me to make these choices in the first place. When I sit in my friend’s backyard and feel the breeze on my face I know that the entirety of the world awaits. I only hope it can handle me.
But, for now, San Diego: