Prime

Years ago, when I was deep in the midst of navigating my move out of New York and back to Boston, when I'd spend my weekdays couch-surfing among friend's apartments in the city or taking the commuter rail out to Connecticut to stay with my then-boyfriend's sister for the night, when I'd take the train down to my Dad's house in New Jersey for weekends, I often found myself exhausted, unnerved, and stressed the hell out.  I was, for all intents and purposes, at the end of my rope.  For not only was I navigating the apartment shuffle, a move between cities, and transitioning from old jobs to new jobs, but that above mentioned boyfriend and I were in the midst of what became a very long, very drawn-out, very messy, eventual break-up.  It was, to put it mildly, probably the most mentally exhausting, physically taxing time of my life.

You couldn't pay me enough to ever go back to those weeks in my life.

I clearly remember, one Saturday afternoon while I was home with my Dad during that time, running errands together in his pick-up truck.  It was late November and almost all of the trees had shed their leaves, the sky threatened rain.  I leaned against the passenger side window, staring at the pine trees we drove past and thought to myself how much easier this would all be if I just wasn't here, if I could just disappear, if I could simply find a way to extract myself from the stickiness of a break-up, from the drama of landlords and apartment moves, from the unsure arena of job hunts.  I'm not telling you this in the hopes of catching some belated sympathy, I'm not looking for empathetic nods. I am just stating the facts.  I was tired, confused, and exhausted.  My heart was very heavy, I was sad and frustrated, and I couldn't, for the life of me, catch even a remote glimpse of any sort of glimmer of light through the dark tunnel in which I found myself.  

As I sat there in the car with my Dad, I found myself close to tears.  My Dad, a stoic man if there ever was one, asked if I'd like to take a ride up to the bookstore.  "My treat," he said, offering one of the few well-known, cure-all solaces for my bookstore loving soul.  I nodded, grateful for the offer.  When we got there, we split apart, and I found myself wandering among the fiction isles.  Walking among the stacks of books, I remember thinking to myself: "Well. I have this.  I will always have this.  And there will be more books that are published that I want to read, and plays to discover, and new bands to fall in love with, and fashion styles to watch, and a -surely- some sort of future that I can't even quite imagine will unfold.  And then I will have that."

******

Last night, the weather was much like it had been all those years ago during the drive with my father. As I cleaned up my kitchen after dinner, I thought back to that car ride.  But as I was thinking about those trying months during that trying fall years ago, I was singing along with a band I love so much it borders on obsession and dancing around my cozy little kitchen, grinning like a fool, all by myself.

Of course things got better.

And now, I have this.

Call it a newly minted 33 honeymoon, blame it on something in the air, or maybe The Lumineers really do just make me this damn happy, but wow I've been in a good mood as of late.  Can we bottle this stuff up somehow? I'm happy to share it.

A few weeks ago, I got a new job within my company, one I'd been gunning for for a few months.  I had to keep mum about the whole thing, informing people on a strictly need-to-know basis lest I jinx anything.  It's an exciting gig, one I know will be filled with hard work and a bit of craziness, but that's the kind of stuff I thrive on, after all.  And oh, after a few years in my current role, I am so excited to dive into a new position, with new challenges and new opportunities.        

Of course, my apartment is a disaster. I mean, it's the worst I've seen it since I moved in years ago.  There are 8 millions piles of I don't even know what everywhere you look, mostly because I have yet to find an afternoon where I can sort through these piles and organize.  My closet is in a state of disarray as I try to do the (dreaded) summer to fall wardrobe swap.  I've got a dresser sitting in the middle of my living room because I haven't had time to sand and paint the sucker.  Like I said, a disaster.   It's not even organized chaos at this point.  And yet, even that can't bring me down.

I'm just buoyed by this sense of wonder and contentment these days, a feeling I so *hoped* I'd discover when I wandered through that bookstore all those years ago, but wasn't totally convinced I'd ever find again. Determined to always be grateful and appreciative, I stop often to soak it up, to take it in, to look around at this life of mine.  Because this is what I have.

A friend of mine got married this weekend here in Boston.  As I spun around the dance floor - in my one of my favorite polka dot dresses - late into the evening, all I could think to myself was how lucky I got, how grateful I am, and how I will always, always have this.