“Are you going home?” The kind-eyed flight attendant asked me. My smile welcomed conversation (Why do I always think airport staff have favorites? Why do I always try to be picked?) There was a holdup on the jet bridge, so we were making friendly conversation.
The question stopped me, and I stared blankly. After an awkward pause, I responded, “Well, I am home, but I’m also going home. I used to live here in Dayton, but now I live in Charleston.”
She nodded politely, and I kept walking in search of my seat.
There are a few simple moments that sober me up to the realization that life is happening now. This was one of them.
When did I get a new home?
Everything changes.
I spent the flight reading Dolly Alderton's memoir. Naturally, when I read others’ accounts of their lives as they see them, I think of my own.
My mind landed on these two memories:
Last Valentine’s Day, I was in another airport. I was given some grocery-store flowers that felt super last-minute, despite expressed hopes for something special. I shoved them in my tote bag, trying to deem them worthy enough to carry through security. It’s the thought that counts, right??? But after trying to talk myself down from disappointment, I threw them straight in the trash with a very angry flick of the wrist. I didn’t want a love like this. The purple filler blooms bobbed atop discarded Starbucks cups and McDonald’s bags. I took one look at the scene, noted that it felt very rom-com of me, and kept moving.
It wasn’t really about the flowers. We broke up less than two months later.
Everything changes.
A few Thanksgivings ago, I was studying abroad, and my mom met me in Ireland to celebrate. I had previously booked a super-cheap three-day tour on a green sprinter van called the “Paddy Wagon” for my 22-year-old friends and me. My mom ended up coming instead. Soon enough, we found ourselves on a multi-day excursion with a man named Alan, who loved to use the tiny microphone hooked up to his sound system to broadcast facts to the two of us. For some reason, we were the only ones on the bus. The tour promised bed-and-breakfast experiences around Ireland. However, we paid like $350, so these romantically marketed B&Bs were actually just scary shed-like spots turned into overnight housing.
At one point, Alan pulled over and pointed out an Irish wishing well. He encouraged us to get out of the bus and make a wish. I watched my mom close her eyes and throw a coin over her shoulder. I did the same. I knew what we were both wishing for — more time together. She was in a losing battle with stage 4 cancer.
In my mind, I often go back to this trip — we’re in The Paddy Wagon, laughing hysterically and wearing matching Irish sweaters.
Everything changes.
My teenage years and early 20s were an art of anticipation — so much could happen, all my first choices were exhilarating! I got to pick my own dinner plates and arrange furniture how I’d like. Simply choosing paint colors felt like the world opening up for me. I’ll never forget the first Christmas I got to decorate a space that was just mine. I made about 17 trips to Lowe's in one day, and no one could stop me.
Ever since I was very young, I imagined myself at 27. I’ve held it in my mind as this sort of magic number. I used to sit in high school classes and daydream about my own house and office. I pictured the exact life I have now. At times, I felt as if I were born to be 27. My 27th birthday is in a few months, and I have not thought past this point.
I’ve had a lot of fun with the “what-if” of early adulthood — pushing towards the bright promise of the future. But I look back on these years and realize that life was happening then.
We imagine living might be ahead of us at some point. Maybe it begins at a certain milestone, or it’s playing out on another plane where we move through our days as a more perfect or improved version of ourselves.
None of that exists.
I am not the first to write about this — what growing up feels like as you’re going through it. But it only becomes clearer — there is no other marker for life other than your own ordinary heartbeat. Please wait for no permission — you already have your own simple breath.
Life is happening nowhere else but here.
And everything changes.
Tory sale is happening! Especially love this denim bag. This green jacket is on my wishlist. This large collar shirt is on sale! Everyone is talking about this Aerie set. Cool cotton pants for spring. Gingham shorts — great price! Love this silk bandana. This hair product — amazing. Cobalt blue skirt.
what a beautiful Saturday morning read🫶
I love this! I sometimes have to remember the days I’m living now are those I once prayed and dreamed about!