It’s been a little less than a week in the making, but I can finally rest my eyes in my new place, and I’m incredibly grateful. It isn’t easy packing up your life into suitcases and starting over. However there is something incredibly liberating about it. As a good friend of mine pointed out, when I moved to Australia, I condensed my necessities into one suitcase. The fact that I brought two with me on this trip plus two carry on bags must mean I’m moving up in life.
The weird part about this trip has been that it doesn’t feel like a move to me. I said my goodbyes, packed for the airport, and left like it was any other adventure I’d taken. Everything about this trip has felt like a vacation, not a move.
I wondered if it was because, in my head, I have a year timeline. It seems more manageable that way. If Seattle and I aren’t meshing after that, I will simply leave. If I like it, then maybe I will stay a bit longer, but it doesn’t feel like a long-term move. I stayed with a friend of mine for the first few days before I could get my keys, so yet again, it may as well have been a long weekend visit.
I got the keys to my apartment, which I absolutely love, in a neighborhood of Seattle called Wallingford. I’m located walking distance from restaurants, coffee shops, bars, and bus stops. Those of you that know me best know that I don’t mind some serious time alone, so having the key to my own place made me happy, but yet it still didn’t feel like a move.
A friend of mine who was an old college roommate came in the evening to help me unload all of my stuff on Monday. I decided that since I hadn’t eaten much all day, I should probably grab a quick bite someplace as per her suggestion. I walked down the street to the local Mexican joint and ordered my food to go. As I waited in line with the masses for my meal, it hit me. I live here. This is my life now. Going on a taco run because it is a much more appealing idea to me than cooking is going to be part of my life here. I smiled and headed home with my grub, feeling kind of nervous for the first time, but knowing that it will all work out.
I don’t know how I know that, seeing as I’m a huge skeptic. Maybe it’s because it not the first random move of my life. I’m becoming a seasoned transient. Maybe it’s because I’m not going overseas so it feels like my loved ones are much closer than they normally are when I set out on an adventure. As I was setting up my blog in the local Starbucks, the man to my right stared at a computer screen, hands clasping his hair, and whispered to himself repeatedly, “No. That’s not right.” The woman to my left looked frazzled and couldn’t keep her daughter occupied long enough to get any work done. I figured, somehow, I might just have my shit together more than these people at this very moment. I don’t know how that’s possible or how long it will last, but I will take it where I can get it.
My old roommate came over two nights ago and helped me assemble my new sleeper sofa for my living room. I invested in a nice one because I expect my fellow nomads to come crash with me. They know I welcome them with open arms, and they get only the best at Chez Lauck. It’s a classy establishment, the kind of place where you arrive to a mint on your pillow and you know it’s going to be a good experience from there on out.
After she left, I sat down on my new couch with a glass of wine watching Game of Thrones on my iPhone. I looked around thinking, this place is mine for the next year, and every moment like this I’m going to enjoy.