My dad texted me at 5:11pm on Friday: “Are you unemployed yet?”
I would have preferred something like, “Have you officially resigned?” It sounds a little less scary.
Today I moved everything out of my apartment and tonight I’m sleeping at my parents’ house. Tomorrow morning I’m flying to Seattle to start a solo bike trip from Vancouver to L.A.
I’ve said all of my goodbyes to friends and coworkers (but come on guys–it’s only two months!). And even though I will be back here before August is over, there is something strange and unsettling about cleaning out desks and emptying apartments. It forces you to acknowledge the passing of time in a way that your average tedious day does not.
This always happens, right when I’m on the brink of something new, the doubts find me. I think: I’ve already done this. I’ve already gone alone, to new schools, new countries, new cities, and on new adventures. And every time I learn the same thing–people are the best thing you will ever find. They are better than the view of the milky way from the dark desert. They are better than tumultuous gray oceans on stormy days.
So why? Why do I leave what I know is good? Why do I leave people who are more stunning than the first glimpse of the Rockies from the midwest plains?
The short form answer is, I’m a glutton. I want it all. All of the beauty and all of the people. I want all of you that I already know. I want everyone that I don’t know yet. And I want all of the beautiful starry nights in between.