I’d envisioned it dozens of times as the end of the lease crept closer, picturing myself scrubbing nooks and crannies I probably hadn’t looked at in years. As I shoved my hands into the gloves and filled the sink it was almost exactly how I thought it’d be.
Still feels weird to be here.
As much as we were exciting to be moving, I must have said “I’m gonna miss this place” about five separate times to my wife. Felt like I was filling the air with words so it didn’t close in on me.
I tend to be a pretty sentimental person, but I found as I shut and locked the door for the last time that I was exhilarated to be even farther from anything familiar.
Safe and familiar are overrated, and I can’t think of a single great thing I’ve ever done by snuggling up in my comfort zone. I can feel it snapping free inside, and despite years of small panics at this kind of feeling I’m letting it wash over me. Like dipping a foot into the water, then a leg, I liken it to an exhale before surrendering to a riptide.
In the adventure of what is next I hope to find honesty, in myself and more so in my writing. If I am honest with myself — really honest — I can push past all the bullshit and paint these abstract dreams into reality.