Today the good people at U-haul installed a hitch on my car. The hitch will allow me to pull a U-haul trailer, dragging every object I own across the country to my new home. Something strikes me about this. I mean, it's so permanent. They install the hitch and it's there forever. I have a hard time committing to a magazine subscription and now I've got this hunk of metal for life or longer.
I was thinking today about why this move is such a big deal for me. People move all the time, right? They ditch one city and go to the next, burn through jobs, houses, schools, relationships, just keep moving. I've only moved once. It was from the house where I was born to the city where I was educated. That was nearly ten years ago. The education part, not the birth part.
Today was one of the first days of spring. Every once in a while I get that tinge of "What the hell are you doing?!" and today was one of those days. Nine o'clock in the morning and I'm in Harvard Sq. It's sunny, it's going to be warm. The square is all hustle and bustle, except now people sprawl everywhere instead of skittering around on ice, all hunkered down in their scarves growling at one another. The trees bloomed an inch for the first time yesterday. People are sitting outside Au Bon Pain, outside my office, under the freshly blooming trees, having fruit and coffee. It reminds me of what this city feels like in the spring and summer. It reminds me why I love it here.
Mon Frere called me last night from Davis Sq. It was Marathon Monday and a record-breaking 85 degrees. The Boston Marathon attracts millions of people. The influx combined with the beautiful weather brought Davis instantly to life. Readers, skateboarders, artists, musicians, ice cream eaters, school-skippers, off-the-clock nine to fivers. Mon Frere was driving through and called to tell me he just remembered how much he loves Davis Sq. That was the same thought I had walking through there on my way home.
It's not the weather that I'm going to miss. Not in the summer, anyway. But Boston goes into hibernation in the winter. This winter lasted longer than any other since 1910. We had snow two weeks ago; halfway through April. So the hibernation lasted longer than normal and I forgot how alive it can be here.
The feeling of Harvard Sq. alive in the morning, going to a job I love with people I adore, getting off work with plans to meet up with some friends at the Someday Cafﾈ and exchange mixes, sit on my porch for the rest of the evening working on my novel. It's days like today that "What the hell are you doing?!" smacks me upside the head.
Since January I've been keeping the list handy, of exactly what it is I'm doing. Sometimes I forget why I'm doing this. This morning, a little bit in love with Cambridge, Massachusetts, the thought crossed my mind that I would be standing alone on a street in Seattle in June with no job, no apartment, no friends, and no good reason to be there. That I'd forget why I was there. And I'd freak out. But this morning I realized -- I don't have to know. I don't have to have all the answers. Today I feel lucky to have the questions.
The only thing I have to know is what it felt like in the second that I announced my decision. The insane joy and freedom at hearing those words out loud. How despite the fear, there has never been any question that this is exactly what I want to be doing. I may not do it perfectly, but I'm going to do it. And the victory or failure is going to be all mine.
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