So far the weather this August has been calm, with cooler temperatures and a heavier breeze than July. I keep expecting to turn around and see September already, but we’ve only just begun the eighth month of the year, and I’m already ready for some change.
At the beginning of this month, I began a new job and moved into a new apartment. I now live with three men in Brooklyn, in an apartment with funky wood working and a rickety fire escape. Right before I dove headfirst into these two new parts of my life, I stopped to think about how much my life has changed since I first moved to New York.
Over the past year and a half, I’ve stopped worrying about things I can’t control: my own inevitable demise, other people’s eating habits, what people think of my shoes, etc. I’ve gotten better at crossing the street, I know the best times and locations to hail a cab, I can dole out directions to nearly anyone who asks and I know where to buy the best tomatoes in my neighborhood. I’ve snuck into the MOMA…twice. I’ve danced on a rooftop overlooking the city-scape, Empire State Building all aglow. I’ve played whiffle ball with random park people and held conversations with the homeless.
And, looking back on my fear and initial unease, my hesitation and stress, I wish I could just take the shoulders of that girl and shake her and say, it’s going to be fine. Everything will be fine. It will. Trust me.
This past weekend I was walking home alone—a rather long walk from Prospect Park—and I was listening to a podcast where two people were having a conversation about what it’s like to be in your 20s. They wondered aloud if they’d ever want to go back to that period of their lives, knowing what they know now. They agreed that if they knew now that everything was going to turn out well, and fine and good and even better than they thought it would, then they would absolutely go back and re-do their early years.
They would re-do that time when you don’t have kids to worry about, or marriages to upkeep, or mortgages to pay. They would re-do that time when you’re so scared that one misstep is going to alter your life forever. They would re-do the penny pinching and the whole-day sadness and the questioning everything and falling in love with so many different people and that what-ifs and if not now, but whens. They’d re-do it all.
And it kind of gives me hope, you know, that such admirable people who’ve been so down before, would re-do what many claim to be the most difficult time in our lives. Even though I’ve got six years to go in my 20s, I wish I could yell at my former self, squeeze her, and ask her to let go of so much worry and live a little. To stop thinking so much about my future and start caring more about what’s going on right in front of my face.
I’ve got plans, you know, a brewin’. There are so many things I want to do before the summer is over. Most of them though, are pretty easy to accomplish and they are less concerned with 401Ks and financial stability and my career and shit-ton more carefree. Number 1 and Number 2? Do a handstand in the ocean and drive a go-kart.
Here’s to an upcoming fall. It’s gonna be good.