…I got off a one-way flight from HKG at SFO. In the spirit of true transparency, it actually was not a one-way ticket, I have always been someone who hedges their bets, for better or for worse. I left because I thought I was ready. I was ready, but as the etymology of the word suggests, nostalgia… hurts.
I had done a lot and seen a lot in Asia and I felt like there were things I needed to do back home. Sort of a life that was calling to me. In a discombobulated state (enough so that I dropped my passport on the street and didn’t even notice – one more reason to thank goodness for R) I jumped in R’s big American SUV, drove over to international cargo and picked up Matilda, and then headed to Petaluma, where I was received by T. With no plan, no home, and a cat, I sat in my girlfriend’s house (in spite of her intense cat allergies) and tried to figure out what was next. Three years later I am not totally sure about any of it, but I supose that is life, and it is a fine life.
The series of steps I took from 1 July 2010 to 1 July 2013, in no particular order, included:
- Two phone numbers
- Two jobs
- One home
- Two storage units to none
- Still zero cars
- One new cat bringing the total to two
- Three birthdays
- Too few vacations
- Twenty pounds (seriously? Yes, seriously.)
- Several romantic misadventures
- New connections with many old friends
- Fast connections with several new friends
- More new shoes than I will admit
- Three deaths
- Four weddings
- And another summer, now three, with the 4th of July and without typhoons and humidity
These steps were a combination of awkward, ridiculous, and brilliant… and landed me here, today. In strangely sunny San Francisco.
Happy anniversary to me.