I don't cry like this. At all.
I’m not one of those pretty criers. You know, those girls whose eyes get all glassy and whose mouths pout so perfectly that you can’t really feel bad for them because they’re too cute when they’re sad.
Nope. My eyes swell up and my nose gets so red my sister used to (still does) call me Rudolph. Which, of course, only made (makes) me cry harder. Then, you might even say, it glows.
So, not being a pretty crier, I prefer not to do it in public. One year ago, though, that is precisely what I was doing, as unobtrusively as humanly possible, for about three hours on a plane from Boston to Memphis. Looking back on that emotional flight, I will admit to you that the majority of tears were for the most immediately felt loss in moving back home – the boyfriend.
But lost romance aside, there were friends, Boston, and Tufts to miss. There was the true end to my college days and the symbolic conclusion of my childhood. The exchange of careless living for a room in my parents’ house and a tedious job hunt. Not to mention the nagging sense of failure at not having graduated into the job of my dreams.
And, on that plane, I didn’t even know the half of what moving back to Memphis would really mean. In short, this year has been nuts.
My professional growth is perhaps the most evident. A year ago, well… … … well, nothing. Now, I’m establishing a career in one of the world’s most progressive industries. Not too bad, if I do say so myself.
Personally, though, this year I’ve learned to live on my own. As in, literally, alone. There is nothing like living by yourself, and I wasn’t nuts about it at first. It scared me that I could wake up on a weekend and not speak until I went out in the evening. I have never had a bathroom all mine. A refrigerator all mine! Oh, how I like it now. I’m not saying it won’t get old at some point, but I think people often avoid the opportunity to live alone and miss out on its riches. There’s such an incredible freedom that comes with having no one else’s schedule to abide but your own. There’s time to just… think.
Can't be all bad here...
But to not sound introverted, I must admit Memphis has surprised me in this year. I never lack for things to do. Music, bars, food, and festivals abound. So Statue of Liberation Through Christ statue aside, you’re pretty hip, Memphis. I will leave you, but you’re pretty darn hipster.
And so, after one year, I miss Boston every day, but I did the best thing coming back. And I’m glad.
-
Mama
