Chrisonomicon

Thursday, May 22, 2003

The flourescent light buzzes on my desk and I flip the switch to clear my thoughts after a week of rampant preparation for the move into Mike's place tomorrow. Just a year ago, I was moving into this apartment — the first place I've had on my own — and now it's broken down into boxes, looking as anonymous as it did last May. I'm overwhelmed with a sense of bittersweetness as the apartment releases me into the world again, or maybe I'm letting go. Maybe a bit of both. I didn't know you could develop such an attachment to a home.

A year ago, I wouldn't have pictured myself where I am now, doing what I'm doing and wanting what I want. When did these things change? My dad came over for dinner two nights ago and I asked him whether life always makes 180 degree turns whenever you're not paying attention. He said it's a part of life. When we're young we envision ourselves doing great things, going places, becoming the people we see on television or in the movies. But at some point you must embrace reality, hopefully with good results. He's glad I'm growing up; I can feel it in the way his eyes slip to the side, hiding the hint of a smile as he ponders something that only someone with 60 years of experience can appreciate.

Although I have many things I'd like to record and ponder on (electronic) paper, I'm exhausted after packing all day and the bed waits expectantly behind me. I hope the move will go smoothly and that I'll be back in a place that I can write again. I guess what I'm trying to say is that despite all the thoughts running through my head, despite the anxiety and excitement, and despite my surprise at the way life has unfolded this past year, I am happy. Who would've guessed that I'd find it and, more importantly, that I'd find it in the last place I expected: right here.

Right where I am.