I'm sitting at the bar in the DFW airport TGI Fridays as I start to write
this. My back is to everyone else because that's how I always am at
bars. Unapproachable.
For the past few minutes, I've been trying to get some work done. I answer questions and write articles over at GreenAnswers.com, and I'm a little behind on my assignments.
My excuse? Well, I'm moving.
Earlier, when I was checking in, my bag was seven pounds overweight. It was one of two bags I had to check, and I already had two carry-ons too. To some extent, this is how I always am. I overpack because, well, I'm always prepared for anything, which is why I'm always my friend group's "mom." That seven pounds almost cost me an extra $100 (on top of the $60 I was already paying - thanks AA). But when I told the woman checking me in just why my bag was overweight, she waived the fee.
"Well ma'am, I'm moving. And these are all my possessions in the world."
It was only out on the curb moments before that that the finality of leaving hit me quite distinctly. My mom was dropping me off, and we were never good at goodbyes. But we hugged a few times and got a little choked up and I realized that for the first time in my life, I was going to be away from her and the rest of my family for an indefinite period of time, with no simple drive home.
In that second, I saw myself the way she must see me, as the woman she raised; her legacy. Quiet and hard-working, with a passion for equality. Someone good at writing down her thoughts, but not as good at being vulnerable with others. Perhaps a touch impatient.
Most of those qualities are qualities of my mother. Except the quiet; my dad is the quiet one. But in so many other ways, I am my mother's daughter. And I know that now because I'm okay with moving halfway across the country to pursue a vague dream, like she did when she graduated from college.
Now, as I'm sitting on the plane and looking at the American landscape spreading out below me for miles, I know I'm doing the right thing by moving to DC. It feels right.
I've always been bad at goodbyes, but I sure am good at hellos.
For the past few minutes, I've been trying to get some work done. I answer questions and write articles over at GreenAnswers.com, and I'm a little behind on my assignments.
My excuse? Well, I'm moving.
Earlier, when I was checking in, my bag was seven pounds overweight. It was one of two bags I had to check, and I already had two carry-ons too. To some extent, this is how I always am. I overpack because, well, I'm always prepared for anything, which is why I'm always my friend group's "mom." That seven pounds almost cost me an extra $100 (on top of the $60 I was already paying - thanks AA). But when I told the woman checking me in just why my bag was overweight, she waived the fee.
"Well ma'am, I'm moving. And these are all my possessions in the world."
It was only out on the curb moments before that that the finality of leaving hit me quite distinctly. My mom was dropping me off, and we were never good at goodbyes. But we hugged a few times and got a little choked up and I realized that for the first time in my life, I was going to be away from her and the rest of my family for an indefinite period of time, with no simple drive home.
In that second, I saw myself the way she must see me, as the woman she raised; her legacy. Quiet and hard-working, with a passion for equality. Someone good at writing down her thoughts, but not as good at being vulnerable with others. Perhaps a touch impatient.
Most of those qualities are qualities of my mother. Except the quiet; my dad is the quiet one. But in so many other ways, I am my mother's daughter. And I know that now because I'm okay with moving halfway across the country to pursue a vague dream, like she did when she graduated from college.
Now, as I'm sitting on the plane and looking at the American landscape spreading out below me for miles, I know I'm doing the right thing by moving to DC. It feels right.
I've always been bad at goodbyes, but I sure am good at hellos.
Best of luck to you! And- welcome to the East Coast (and your next chapter in life)!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Jennifer! I'm loving the east coast so far!
Delete