Written as I soared through the skies on a one-way ticket from my hometown of Seattle to my new home in San Francisco.
There's been so much to write about this move and everything I'm leaving behind and looking forward to that I haven't found many words to say at all. And now that my house has been packed into a green Mayflower truck and I'm quite literally in the sky, I feel the need to reflect on this relentless knot in my throat.
All day I've felt the tightening and loosening, the gripping ebb and flow of emotion that threatens to unravel my composure without my permission.
Then again, it feels good to cry. A helpful sort of pain. Like a long deep stretch after a long deep sleep.
I've had the urge to spread my wings and make a home in California for years. My whole life has been leading up to this point.
And yet. My heart hurts to leave my family and friends, the life and community I've built in Seattle for the entire duration of my adult life thus far. I love so many people with such a ferocity that a part of me wishes none of this was happening at all.
I stopped writing to cry and Giovanna caught me. She said, "I looked at you and you had tears and now I have tears."
She told me she missed Grammy which of course made me miss my parents terribly and I just had lunch with them today. I have the most wonderful and supportive parents and I owe it to them to not just make the most of this move but to be happy. Because what more could you possibly want for your child? They gave me unwavering roots and now it's time I put my foundation to good use by digging deeper and reaching higher and stretching further than before.
Wish me luck, dear readers. And if you have any tips on living the good life in San Francisco, tell me in the comments or email me at lucymiller7 [at] gmail.com. I'm all ears.
These photos have no filter like these words.