About Time

After 5 1/2 years, NYC finally felt like home. I knew my way around. I made the city my own. I could tell you were to get the freshest loaf of French bread and best tiramisu. I could tell you where the oldest, free-standing farmhouse was. I could tell you where to go to catch an outdoor jazz concert. I was even up on celebrity gossip. I survived the transportation strike and walked four miles home across the Queensboro Bridge in the middle of December. My husband was finally there. I finally made friends there. Life was good.

Life is still good. We've been here nearly a month now and I'm starting to get a little more settled. Hubby's job is starting up and his future there is bright.
I've got friends here and room to breath. My dining table is on its way. Now I sit in the driver's seat, not the backseat of a yellow cab. Now I drive to Target instead of taking the subway deep into Queens and I've been there more times than I can count.

Yet, I feel uprooted. An aimless wanderer in a foreign town.

Admittedly, I'm a little impatient - a little scared. I'm stifled by "What if's". What if I don't like it here? (Driving is stressful and there are crazy people walking out into the middle of the street.) What if I can't find a job I like? What if the world falls apart because I didn't do enough to make it perfect?

At least in NYC I could be quietly anonymous - perfect for the shy me. I didn't even know my neighbors' names. Here, anonymity isn't quite as simple. Everyone has been so welcoming. People talk with you everywhere you go. I've made nice with store owners and restaurant managers all over town. I've even chatted up my neighbors! Why i
s the universe conspiring against me, drawing me out when all I want to do is hibernate and wait for spring?

I need to relax. I need to let go. I need to stop being afraid. I need to stop taking this all so seriously and just be.


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