Hi friends,
How y’all doing?
I’m typing this from the balcony of the family condo in Florida, overlooking the Caloosahatchee River. I love it here. I sit outside all day, even when it’s 90+ degrees.
It’s been just over a year since I packed up my Brooklyn apartment and moved all my stuff home. I remember crying almost every day the month (yes, the month lol) leading up to my move. Any little activity activated feelings of this is the last time I’ll walk to this coffee shop and talk to my favorite barista or this is the last time I’ll watch the sunset from this exact spot. I was sitting with a level of finality that made me uneasy, missing moments before they were even gone. I ached with the anticipation of regret. It’s so hard to say goodbye not just to seasons of life, but the versions of yourself that existed during that time. And it’s so hard to know you’ve made the right decision until you take a risk and permit yourself to figure it out.
Reporting live from the other side of said risk, I can confidently say I made the right decision!!!
13 months after I moved, 4 months after taking the European tour I’d planned since I was 22, and 13 days til my 27th birthday, things are starting to make sense.
I spent the past year working remotely, reading, learning, and writing from the balcony of the condo. I found peace and freedom in staring at the water, in taking a leap, in committing to responsibility, in spending time with my parents, in cultivating deep contentment within myself. And, oh, the joy! How many times have I looked out the window and, without even trying, seen a dolphin splashing hello? Or kickstarted the work day with a quick dip in the pool? Or gotten to share a morning cup of coffee with Dad before he headed to work? Perhaps unsurprisingly to those who know me best, I adapted to this new season with ease. I started going to the gym again and felt myself growing stronger. I read everyday, recovering that younger version of me who regularly stayed up late to finish a book. I joined my parents in their routines; popping out to listen to the news at 6:30, watch Wheel of Fortune at 7 while eating dinner, “play” Jeopardy at 7:30, and cackle at reality television with Mom until we both fell asleep.
At 23, I scoffed at the idea of moving home. At 25, I actively chose it. I’m so grateful for this past year: the peace it’s provided, the quality time with family, the people I’ve met, the money I’ve saved, the places I’ve traveled.
Quick interlude for a travel recap, * denotes a first-time visit
Oakland, CA
Miami, FL
Beloit, WI*
Los Angeles, CA
Portland, OR*
Dayton, OH
Madrid, ES*
Barcelona, ES*
Amsterdam, NL*
Madrid, Barcelona, and Amsterdam all with my favorite human, my younger brother
Munich, DE*
Paris, FR*
London, ENG*
Seattle, WA*
honorable mention to Bainbridge Island!
Portland, OR
Oakland, CA
Big Sur, CA*
I drove down the PCH/ HWY 1 for the first time. Prettiest drive of my LIFE!!!
Los Angeles, CA
Joshua Tree, CA*
+ 9 trips back to NYC
++ ample time in Fort Myers, FL
The biggest gifts this year gave me were clarity, perspective, and time.
Clarity
I moved to Florida thinking I wanted to move to Miami, then I thought California, then it was Seattle, then it was I’ll move wherever is cheap and I can still travel, and now… I know I’m moving back to New York City. Out of all the places I’ve traveled, it’s the only place that feels like home. I’m leaving this year knowing where I want to go next, what I want to do there, how I want to show up, and who I want to spend time with. What a blessing.
Perspective
The early twenties are a TRIP!!! It is a phase of life I am begging someone to study deeply and publish their findings widely so people can be aware!! 21-25 were the messiest, weirdest, saddest, silliest years of my life, and that’s without delving into the chaos that was 2020. I was amidst a sea of grief without a paddle, trying to (re)build myself, craft a career, and still be somewhat enjoyable to be around. It was so difficult and deserves its own meandering write-up (maybe I am the person to study it and share??) so all I’ll say is thank God I stuck around long enough to see it through. There truly were quite a few days I thought it’d never get better. I’m so thankful to be able to look back and see that all my effort—the crying, the failing, the striving—had a purpose.
Time
As you may have noticed, I have a penchant for reflection. So much so, in fact, that I have six journals full of thoughts from the last nine years and three current ones in rotation for personal, creative, and work pursuits. Being able to open a notebook and turn to a page and see exactly how you were feeling on a particular day, at a particular point in your life, is unmatched. I spent a chunk of time during this year flipping through and synthesizing all my ideas, learnings, and personal -isms. I was astounded by how many times I’d arrived at the same conclusion I had years prior. So many of the answers I need are already written within the pages of these journals. Or, to say it another way, the solutions I seek are already within me. I’ve always used writing as a way of making sense of the world; this year gave me more time to, instead, write myself into it.
June 2022 was indeed the last time I walked to the Utica A stop or bought a snake plant I didn’t need from the local gardening store, and not just because, quite literally, I haven’t done either since. But, because I’ll never be that version of myself again. And for the first time in my almost-27 years, I feel really good about that. I’ve called this past year, my 26th year, my “digital nomad era,” my “villain (read: healthy boundaries) era,” and my “golden year.” While all of those fit nicely, I think from here on out I’m going to refer to it as “the year of answered prayers.” I have faith 27 will be just as fruitful. There’s better things coming than anything I’ve left behind.
Extra love to you for reading this one. As always, feel free to share this post with a family member or friend. Wishing you a bright week ahead!