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I'm on a plane from Philadelphia to Houston. I feel strangely serene after a whirlwind adventure involving moving out of my house, surviving an earthquake and hurricane, and saying goodbye to the people I love for another year. A year to me now seems relatively short (my twenties are passing me by quicker than I know what to make of them), but for those sending me off, it may seem like a lengthier period of time. Especially for my poor mother who now has neither of her daughters in Pennsylvania, my sister having just relocated to the DC suburbs to start her first year of teaching.

Just over three weeks ago I was flying the other direction. Houston to Philadelphia to tie up loose ends and unfinished business. Coming back to pick up the life that I had left behind in a hurry on May 25th. The first night back in the 2020 house felt strange; I was a visitor in the home that had been my anchor through my year and a half in Philly. Everything was pristine; there were no dirty dishes in sight. And worst of all, the house felt like a ghost town as some housemates were gone for the summer and others were mostly not around due to their busy schedules. A lot different from the days when I would reconvene with my massage therapist/yoga instructing housemates mid-day for a brief chat or cup of coffee, our unconventional jobs allowing us to pop in and out during the daytime hours. Quickly however, despite the changes, I settled into a comfortable rhythm at 2020 during my three weeks home, scheduling time to see people for lunch or dinner and enjoying lazy mornings putzing around with my cat. The first two weeks especially felt extremely luxurious. I was explaining to my therapist how surprisingly invigorating it was to stroll the streets of my neighborhood in the summertime, to be in Philly without the crushing stress of my old job. She aptly noted that this carefree time was almost like my "honeymoon" with the city. The chance to fall in love again with a place that tends to embody the thin line between love and hate.

I leave Philadelphia feeling so grateful, not for the soulful grit of the city itself, but rather for the amazing people who are in my life, for my church community, and for the comfort of having a place to call my "home base," a place to come back to. I'm not sure that I've ever had that before. The time home has felt rejuvenating and grounding, full of reminders of the places where I come from and encouragement to embark on this next journey in Texas and whatever it may hold. I seem to be at one of those odd "full circle" junctures in life, bridging the past and future, holding on and letting go, feeling weak and strong, with a burden that is heavy and light. I am full of anxiety yet also not at all. I have the conviction that this is something that I have to do, whether now or in 20 years, that eventually the border would have pulled me there to do this work. It's a deep down, inexplicable, curious kind of pull. Like the way you know when you know about a new friend, that they are going to be someone important in your life. Like the way you know about something that's worth the hassle and the risk. An instinctive understanding that even if this experience turns me inside out and upside down, it's something that I want to live out.