One month update

Was I really in the United States a month ago?  Was I really speaking only English every day?  Did I really live in New York City last summer?  Has it really been only one season since I finished school?  Wasn’t it just five months ago that I was sitting in Yankee Stadium next to the better half of our singer-songwriter duo, listening to the Secretary of State tell us how bad the economy was, waving purple and white pompons in the air because we actually accomplished something wonderful?

This is the period of life where things change very quickly.  It’s an emotional growth spurt; you’re forced to mature now or never; it’s widely accepted by the general population that you’re an adult, and you have adult responsibilities, and you actually have the capacity to deal with said responsibilities.

One month ago, I fell in love with this country all over again.  Two weeks ago, I fell in love with the shadows cast by the full moon’s lively glow.  A week ago, I fell in love with the kids.  Three weeks ago, I fell in love with fresh French food sold at markets.  Three months ago, I fell in love with a wonderful man.  I’ve been doing a lot of falling lately.  Honestly, it feels more like flying.  I’ve been soaring over mountains.  I’m never going to hit the ground.

This is the part of life where you learn things about yourself and about the world, where you prove certain things to yourself and to the people around you and to the people who will eventually hear your name.  This is when you see just how far you can push your own limits.  This is the part where you should really just try things that scare you: before you get into comfortable patterns and lack the motivation to jump out of your well-worn tracks and into the open air, the wind whipping all manner of unknowns at you without any way to protect yourself.

One month ago, I packed my life into a couple of suitcases and left behind everything I knew, except for a language that was not my own.  Now, the language still isn’t mine, and I still don’t entirely know what I’m doing.  But I’m not scared anymore.  And it’s a good thing that I don’t know what I’m doing.  It means I get to make it up as I go along.  Many people would kill for an opportunity like this, even if they don’t know it yet.

I love my life.


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