So it begins.
Today (Dec. 28th 2012) I moved into my apartment
in Atlanta. It’s a lovely one bedroom, with a big window that faces the Fox
Theatre. It is, in a word, perfect. My
roommate, Danielle, is staying with her parents in a hotel down the street
until we get our beds tomorrow. So, for tonight, I am alone. I decided that I’d
rather spend my first night here in our apartment, even if it meant sleeping on
a make-shift bed of pillows and furry blankets on the floor.
It’s been a very therapeutic evening. Opening boxes and
unfolding blankets. Rediscovering all the wonderful treasures I own. Things which
were undervalued as I hurriedly packed them a mere 24 hours ago –frantically rushing
in an attempt to make it here by 2pm this afternoon. And now, finally, there is no need to rush.
Or move. Or even think too hard. So instead, I am sitting in the dark (save a
couple of mason jars filled with white Christmas lights) reflecting on what all
this means.
All these things. Why I am here.
But, regardless of whatever the elusive answer to that
question is, the reality remains that, at long last, I am here. Here is this
beautiful, busy, bustling city.
As the skyline came into view today, I couldn’t help smiling
at the city that would be my future--at all the possibilities that could be
waiting in those big buildings and the busy streets between them. But, as I sit
here tonight, I am scared. I am terrified as I look out at this huge city that,
even at this late hour, is wide awake. I am terrified of what it holds for me.
And, even more than that, of what it does not.
I’ve come here to find something. An opening, I think. I’ve come to sit in my
big window and watch the traffic hurry through the rain. To marvel at the tall
buildings and the strangers twirling their umbrellas despite the December
chill. To try and be told no, and then to try again. I hope I always will.
It’s all very poetic in my mind. But, in flesh, I can sense
there is real danger. The almost blinding possibility of failure cannot be
ignored. I can only pray that it is not for me.
I am optimistic, but still so very scared. So very at peace
about this beginning, but still so very uncertain as to how to start.
We signed a year-long lease so, for better or worse, we're determined to see the year through. Hopefully when the year ends I will be able to look back on this entry and think, “Oh, dear, silly, Sarah. How naïve you were.”
And then I hope I am proud of something.
And then.
-s
