Originally posted September 13, 2009
God, I love my life.
Sometimes I look around and convince myself I must be dreaming, I’m so happy. This apartment, this street, this town — so picturesque and quirky and… home. This boy that I get to spend my time with. The friends I’m lucky enough to have grown up with. The co-workers I love and who’ve become family. ‘Smo, the best puppy that ever lived. How did I get so lucky?
And yet I do wonder sometimes as I look around at this wonderous little hodge podge of a life I’ve created. I am SO in love with this apartment, but when we were looking for places a couple of years ago, the boy used to tease that I could walk into a crack den and start musing about how we could arrange the furniture once we moved in. “You want to move into EVERY PLACE we look at!” he’d say, and he was right. Even now, if we drive through a neighborhood or a city or a state that’s new, I start dreaming about what it would be like to build a life there, to make it my own.
It’s the same thing with professions. I never did have an answer to that whole “What do you want to be when you grow up?” question when I was a kid, or maybe the problem was that I had too many answers. I still can’t reconcile all the things I want to do and be and see and experience. When I see something new, I want to completely delve into it immediately, which is ironic because when I was younger I was terrified of change.
Back then I wanted to do and be everything, but didn’t have the wherewithall or maybe the courage to do it. I was comfortable, and I didn’t want to shake things up too much. Some people are itching to launch into their lives as soon as they’re able, but I was happy where I was. I didn’t want to move away when I went to college. Didn’t want to take too many risks. Maybe somewhere, some part of me knew things would change soon enough, that things would completely be turned upside down, and until then I wanted to stay safely wrapped up in my coccoon and watch the world spin from my comfy window seat.
That was a lifetime ago. And as terrified as I used to be of change, now I thrive on it. It’s funny how that happens. I suppose it has something to do with growing up, with growing more comfortable in your own skin. Knowing how to define yourself by more than just what you do or where you live. Knowing those variables won’t change you as a person. They just provide new scenery. It’s who you are, and the company you keep, that really define you. And that’s quite freeing, to know that I could be living out of a backpack and still keep the things that really matter.
So yes, I love my little apartment, on the beautiful little street, in the precious little town where I dwell. But what I love most about my life would still be here no matter where I lived. What I love is that I’ve made my home here. And that home will stick with me no matter where I go.