Waiting at the airport (Dulles) for my (now delayed twice) regional flight (read: little plane) back to New York.
I remember my first few weeks in Brooklyn. Despite the depression creeping in (I could totally feel that one coming… Ugh that sucked the big one) it felt right.
It… I. I felt right. I felt a part of something that had been waiting for me.
I think in part because it was truly my first home of my own choosing. Of course “I chose” to move to DC with my then boyfriend, but trust me, when in love at 20 and presented with the opportunity to move to a big city from a mid-sized town, there isn’t much deciding going on.
So here I am, seven years later… waiting for a little plane at a big airport to take me to my little apartment in a big city.
It still feels right though. Not always great. But more often than not. Good.
Not sure how things are going to unfold in the next few months, but i know it is going to be different. Again.
my life has changed a lot in the last couple of years. Like, big events that are challenging enough to deal with individually, let alone one after the next.
But the dust is starting to settle, and with the encouragement (read: threats of bodily harm) of my sister and close friends, i gotta grab the broom and sweep up what i can. Toss it. And keep going. Sometimes, leaving the broom alone is best. Stirring things up again doesn’t often help the cause.
and sometimes, realizing what is my ‘mess’ to deal with and what to leave alone is just as valuable as the act of dealing itself.
So… Yeah. I’ve been crying a lot lately. Sweeping and crying. Not my best look. But at least it keeps the dust out of my eyes.