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My Thoughts On Moving
September, 2000
I lay here tonight, thinking about my life. I have said goodbye to most of my friends. Now, I visit with my memories. So much has happened to me in this town, in this house. I was born in this town, I grew up in this town. I have lived 23 years in this town. Almost every memory, everything that makes me who I am, revolves around this town, this neighborhood. As an eighteen year old, I couldn't wait for the means to leave. I was raised to be a strong, independant woman. By the time I graduated high school, I felt chafed, restricted. I needed breathing room, I needed space to stretch my wings. I was chomping at the bit to be released! Because of my financial circumstances, I did not go to a faraway university as most of my schoolmates and I dreamed. I ended up at Community College, working part time to save up for the future university and I continued to live under my parents' roof. As much as I longed to throw off the yoke of parental supervision, this choice was not a bad choice. I met my current best friends there. I learned some very difficult lessons that had nothing to do with school while attending community college. I became reaquainted with my desire, my calling, to tell stories.
I had a brief spurt of forced independance. I left my parents home before I was ready and I paid dearly for my choice. I lost nearly two years of my "adulthood" to playing house. But I did learn what it takes to be on my own, to take care of myself. So, back to mom and dad I headed. Back to lick my wounds and start preparations once again to take flight.
Now, that flight is about ready to take off. I am a little older, a little wiser, and even though I'm even more independent than before, I also realize what a good thing I've got here. Before, I couldn't wait to shake the mantle of my family, they were crowding me. So I jumped into a situation where I learned just how crowded a person can be. Now I'm back home and I'm beginning to chafe once again. But this time, I fully realize what I'm leaving behind.
I have been plagued with dreams, visions, memories of everyone and everything I know. People's faces appear in my mind, places I've visited pop up around every corner. I drive down the street, any street, and I come face to face with a familiar place. I used to work in that building; my best friend in high school used to live down that street; my college friends and I used to eat at that restaurant; here was my secret rendevous spot with a special friend; there is the spot I used to come to when I wanted to be alone. Those are the hills I wake up to every morning, black against the sun. Those are the hills I used to come home to every evening, orange and red with deep black shadows in the sunset light. These are the people who have meant everything to me in the last 23 years. This is the home that has meant everything to me in the last 23 years.
Downtown San Jose
The foothills
Every time I drive towards home, I come over a small rise in the freeway and I see the foothills. Those hills surround my home, they cradle the valley like a mother's arms protecting her child. These hills have always made me feel so safe. They glow bright green after the first rains of the season. They burn like a fire with the setting sun. Outside these hills is the rest of the world. I have seen so much and so little of that outside world. Brief excursions only. And now I plan to make a home there? At least for the next few years, my home will not be cuddled in the arms of my precious foothills, surrounded by the people I know and love. The hills and this valley represent my life. I have been protected by those special people in my life. I have not escaped the hardships of life, I still suffer from the occasional rainstorm and heatwave, and once every few years comes the floods or earthquakes. Still, I go on, a little different, a little weatherworn, but loved and protected like this valley and the hills. Seeing the hills rise up in the distance not only affects my sense of beauty, not only strikes me in wonder at the lines and curves and gentleness of nature, it also reminds me of everything that makes my life what it is. It reminds me of everyone and everything that I have encountered during my time cradled in the embrace of those hills. They will forever serve as a tangible example of my existance, of my memories.
Before I can become too depressed at the thought of all I'm leaving behind, images of what's yet to come parade across my vision. There are people I have yet to meet, the wonderful career I know I will have. My very own place to live, the parties I will have, the late night, intimate conversations with new friends on my future couch, the movies I can enjoy in my own living room, the classes I will take, the new experiences I will have. New friends to make my life less alone, and of course, the one special old friend who is waiting for me to once again renew our relationship.
So I await, on the brink of a new age, pen poised above the first page in the next chapter of my life. I write as it unfolds, the ending as yet unknown to me. I await with mixed feelings. On the one side, I am nearly frozen in fear of the unknown. I have gotten comfortable in my life as it is. I know this place and these people. I have outgrown the adolescent rebellious desire, the need to just get away, to discover myself without influence from those who might mold me in their image. I know who I am and what I want and although I still feel the desire to strike out on my own, to be my own person, it is more an extension of my strength and independence rather than a show of childish temper "I can do it on my own!" as I stamp my feet and pout. This display of more grown-up emotion, the natural desire to strike out on my own overweighs my fear of the unknown. I look ahead, into my future with the knowledge that I can do and be anything I want. The niggling little whispers of doubt echo in my mind, and I will take them with me on my journey. But the important part is that I will take my journey. I look upon the horizon and see more good times, more bad times, tests and trials that I face with eagerness as well as trepidation.
With a challenge in my eye and my chin held high, I face my future, holding on to my doubts and fears, my good and bad memories, because I know they will guide me on my path. I anticipate my future knowing it is there waiting for me, like my new friends in my new home. I hold onto that knowledge when the doubts threaten to overwhelm me, when the memories of all those I leave behind call my name, begging my return. It is a bittersweet parting. I go because I must go. My future calls me, as does my past. But the voices of the past are mere echoes. The voices of my future are strong with youth, their call bellows across time. The voices of the past fade with age, even though I know they will never fade entirely. I will forever take my memories with me, as a reminder of who I am. They will haunt me, comfort me, make me laugh and make me cry. I will miss everyone and everything back home, and I hope they will miss me too. I won't be gone forever, and I know I will see some of my memories in person once again. But those memories refuse that knowledge and hover around my consciousness anyway. When the tears fill my eyes, I can console myself with the knowledge that I go willingly into my future and I will take a small part of my past with me, the memories of the places and people I've loved and still love.
The Inn Between © 2002
