We're moving back to California on May 29th, which is now only two weeks and two days away. All semester long I was counting the days until I could get out of New York City, but now that our flight is fast approaching, I'm second-guessing my choice. I got sick with a bad cold on the first day of May and I'm only now almost completely recovered--it took me out for two weeks. Because of this, I haven't been out and about and getting the closure I wanted, so now I have to cram a month's worth of packing and goodbyes into two weeks.
I'm not going to miss my classes--by the end I was feeling extraordinarily burnt out on school. I'm not going to miss the commute to midtown I've made for various internships. I'm not going to miss the constant sirens or other noise, air, or personal space pollutants. I'm not going to miss the mosquitos.
I am going to miss our friends, my job at the library, Columbia's campus, and our apartment. I'm going to miss the concept of the subway system, if not the subway system itself. I'm going to miss Riverside Park, both Devin's and my favorite place in Manhattan.
It doesn't help that it's finally nice here. How resilient the body and brain are, willing to cast off the memories of a harsh and unending winter at the first gold-green leaf on a tree. This winter was traumatizing and eternal, but now I've forgotten what real cold temperatures were like, even though I experienced it less than a month ago. I'm also having a hard time convincing myself that in a month NYC will be a gross, humid, 90 degree-plus mess like it was last summer and the summer before that. My mind is tricking me by saying "It's nice here, why would you want to leave?" "But mind," I say, "This niceness is extremely temporary." And my mind goes, "What are you talking about? It's nice here. Look at it. Nice."
There are certainties in California--It will be temperate and mild there, even in the winter and summer, and there will be fruit on the trees, and flowers all the time. The farmer's markets will always be overflowing with abundance, and there won't be an apple-only policy from October to May. But there are also uncertainties--When will Devin and I have our own place again? We're staying with our respective parents until either 1) I start at UCLA to pursue my LIS degree and we move down south or 2) I get a job and we move to San Francisco or the East Bay, so the date for this hovers around September, but it's still more nebulous, teetering uncertainty than I'd like. Plus job applications. Never a favorite.
These photos are from right before I got sick, so the very tail-end of April, when winter finally relinquished its grasp.
Sandals! Without tights! And not even a cardigan!
Something else that's contributing to my end-of-an-era angst is my hair. I got a pixie cut last June, and while I liked it, I've been in the process of growing it out ever since. It's now at a really awkward length, and the only way it looks nice is if it's curled. The trouble is, I have very little resolve to actually curl it, so generally I'm just annoyed by it. Another blow to the old self-esteem.
What I'm not annoyed by is my new go-to necklace: A miniature lightbulb with a (sustainably harvested, so says the Portland-based maker. But what else would a Portland-based jewelry maker say?) bee wing.
Sunshine = an inducer of selective amnesia.
Devin in his favorite park, which walks through daily on his way to work, and which he's really bummed to be leaving behind.
Which path to take?