Goodbye New York
Big departures always make me sentimental, and probably no departure has marked a more profound life change than this one. I've spent the past week laying a hand on pretty much every object I own and sorting it into bring-give away-store at parents' house piles (the latter are mostly books). My faithful Camry is filled to the top of the backseats with essentially everything I own - which makes me feel both proud to own little enough that I can really value what I have, and a little bit desolate as I sit here in my empty room, with my aging cats and high school theater posters. It's the first time ever that the dresser and closet in my childhood bedroom are completely empty. This is definitely what I wanted - to be moving out for real, getting my own place and being able to fit everything I own in a car (that was actually a goal of mine - plus, if you don't count shoes or the cookware I'm bringing out, I could -almost- fit all my possessions in the trunk). But at the same time, having so little in New York means that I'm making a real place for myself in Minneapolis (unlike Paris, which ultimately felt very temporary). There are still so many people I love in New York, so there will always be a home for me to go back to... but I know it won't be long before the balance shifts towards the place I've set up for myself. I've got a large and wonderful safety net of friends (and a fantastic housemate) in Minneapolis, but the whole process of transplanting myself is both a sad, a scary, and a very exciting thing. To take my mom totally out of context, it's a little like starting kindergarten.
Picking up all your stuff and setting yourself on a new path (and fitting all that stuff into the back of your car) is a lot of work. I think I get why a lot of people wait until midlife to have a crisis. :)
Picking up all your stuff and setting yourself on a new path (and fitting all that stuff into the back of your car) is a lot of work. I think I get why a lot of people wait until midlife to have a crisis. :)