When I was young, I never thought I’d live outside of New York City. I never really thought about it because, really, the city is so big and so diverse that I felt it had everything I needed. I was born there, I went to school there, I wanted to work there and carve out a life for myself there. However the idea of moving abroad always appealed to me. I was lucky enough to be able to travel to Europe in high school and ever since I have nursed an active wanderlust, traveling as frequently as my wallet will allow. Moving abroad is like turning travel up to 11, and I’ve always dreamed of doing it even though I never intended to leave the city I still consider home.
One of my best friends from college is moving to England today to attend grad school there for a year, and I started thinking about how far away I am from everything I once found very familiar. She’ll be about the same distance from home that I am, doubling the distance between the two of us! That’s almost 6,000 miles. Geez.
It’s exciting to move to new places and embark on new journeys, hopefully filled with adventures. I wish my friend the best of luck and continued success in her schooling, and I hope England treats her well. San Francisco so far has been treating me just fine.
I spent my last residential day in New York City going over my old stomping grounds—the neighborhoods where my high school was, my college, and Union Square where I often hang out with friends. The ground was good and solid underneath my feet, and the gravity of my incoming move is starting to slowly hit me.
This time tomorrow I’ll be on a plane, more than halfway to my new home known as San Francisco, California. It’s a big—no, ginormous—change. And I’m still not quite sure I’m ready for it, but I’m not one to dwell on the whole “readiness” thing. I’m a firm believer in taking chances and not having any regrets because I didn’t go and try something.
My family has been adamantly telling me that I “can’t go,” and honestly the more they say it the more I want to leave. Not because I don’t love my family, I of course love them dearly. It’s more because I’m itching to start something fresh and new. I’m looking forward to a nice, clean slate. A new city to explore, new people to meet, and the adventure of figuring out life on my own for the first time. (Well, okay, not entirely on my own. Louie will be with me. I’m actually very glad I’m not completely on my own and couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend to be at my side.)
Adieu, New York. I love you and will miss you, don’t change too much.