Graduation is less than a month away, and I spent a good part of my day writing cover letters and preparing copies of my resume. I have that twinge in my stomach - anticipation, exhileration, excitement, apprehension - that comes from imagining possibilities and spinning dreams. The future has never been quite so open, and I've never been so on the verge of growing up. I know my life is moving forward, and I am moving on.
It's with some bittersweet sadness that I'm aware of the actual "moving" part. There's a very good chance, I'm beginning to know, that I won't stay in my city. Even if I do find a job in the area, I doubt I'll stay in my neighborhood - housing's just so much more afforable elsewhere. But I'll miss this place, where I've had such good friends, where I've done so much growing up, where so much of the time I've felt that I belonged. I love the streets I walk on; the train tracks I step around and the trees I pass under. I was suddenly glad today that I'd undertaken this photography project and gotten so many neat photos of my neighborhood's little quirks and unexpected beauties.
This appeared on our step last evening. It's so relevant to the way I'm feeling right now: so tiny, so new, and yet ready to roll.
3 comments:
My heart aches with sympathy. I miss that neighborhood all the time. Maybe we could meet there for a cup of coffee this summer?
i love the little popper car, and i love that it just showed up on your steps. i love that it means something.
the oxymoron was devised for just such feelings.
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