Wednesday, June 19, 2013


DC was never going to be permanent.

I could say the same thing about every place I've lived for the past decade or so. When my family moved to Florida, I knew I wouldn't stay. I grew up with brilliantly-colored autumns and winters that never ended, I wasn't built for that constant heat. And Tokyo had an end date built in. I didn't have time to get comfortable, even though part of me did anyway.

And when I came back to Boston for college, I knew two things: that this was my home without a doubt, but that once those four years were over, I wouldn't necessarily get to stay.

My relationships with places have always been as fraught and complicated as my relationships with people, and for this city, it started as a business transaction. It didn't matter that we were incompatible from the start. It had a job for me, my first real job, so there I was. I didn't think it'd be a problem, leaving this place. I had far fewer attachments here than in any city I've ever lived in. I'd be out the door before it could sting.

But attachments show up whether I like it or not - they always do. The things I hated about this place softened into one big affectionate eye roll. Then I found things to like, then I found things to love: the food, the bus routes, the monuments all lit up at night. I got into the habit of turning off all the lights and pulling back the blinds every night before bed to look out at the National Mall, and I grudgingly had to admit that this place could be beautiful when it wanted to be.

I love it here. I made more amazing friends than I could have hoped for. But I'm still a tourist in the world of politics, and the kind of life I'm looking for as a writer isn't here in DC. So at the end of next month, I am coming home to Boston. And while you can never really say what's going to happen next, it'll be the first time in a long time that I won't be carrying escape routes in the back of my head.

It's exciting, and terrifying, and I'll miss this place more than I can stand. Maybe I'd hoped, at the beginning, to avoid these mixed feelings. But I'm a writer. I should have known better than that. :)

Wish me luck!!



    I'm glad you're doing something that makes you happy!!!

  2. I was a nomad growing up, but not by choice--the longest we stayed in one place was 14 months. So I put some strong roots down once I was grown, but I find I still get wanderlust every 4 years or so. So far, my husband's been able to talk me out of it!

    But what a good time for you to return to Boston, and your beloved autumn!

  3. Good luck with the move. I wasn't a nomad growing up (in fact I only have ever lived in one house my entire life) but I am very wanderlust-y, so I can understand the feel to move around to different places. I hope you have an easy transition and I shall welcome you back with open arms. XD

  4. Good luck! I moved across the country myself a few years ago. Though I'd spent my whole life in the London area, I always knew I wasn't supposed to be there - that I was supposed to be in Norfolk. And now here I am, in Norfolk, and it's great! I think we need to do what makes us happy and as you said "I am coming home to Boston" I suspect that in your heart, Boston really is your true "home". I hope you're very happy there!