Could it be that on the last night in my first New York apartment that I’m feeling a bit sad? I think it’s inevitable after you invest so much time into something, take care to make it a part of your life and who you are, that if you have anything pulsing through your veins you can’t help but become attached. This place has treated me well, but timing being what it is, it’s time to go. I’ve always felt compelled to keep moving, somehow always thinking (foolishly?) that whatever might be just around the corner is going to be better than what I already have. The reason behind it? My greatest fear (aside from spiders and never falling in love) - the fear of becoming static.
The trouble with that however, is that no matter where you’re going you can’t help but ask yourself if you’re really running from something. I figure all of us have our Asics on all of the time in some form or other - running from responsibilities, from love, from taking a chance, from growing up, from doing the right thing. There’s always risk involved, there’s always possible defeat and humiliation and injuries that vary from leaping out of a plane (hurts more) to the wounds that can fall upon our hearts (lasts longer).
But I’ve got the keys (all four. Front door, foyer door...) and I don’t know (you never can) what the outcome will be. I’ve boxed up everything I want to take with me and found a lot of things I plan to leave behind. Like I said it’s easy to become attached, and I’m working on getting better at letting go of the things you learn over time you shouldn’t (or aren’t meant to) hold on to.
And that’s the other good thing about starting over somewhere, you can get better mileage from all of the complicated things of your not-so-distant past, and start to realize (and be hopeful even), all the things that you’re suddenly running towards.
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