Mundane Turbulence

BOSTON

Wow. So…yesterday, I lived in Boston. I went to work, and I was productive and had a great conversation with my (now former) supervisor, Dave (favorite message from him that day: “Good bye Christian the RA and hello Christian the friend.”)  A bunch of my favorite peeps came out that night, and we rolled deep all over Allston, being our silly selves and enjoying whatever it is that we do together. It was my roomie Alena’s idea that we stay up to watch our last Boston sunrise (she herself is moving a bit farther than I am, to Stuttgart, Germany), and so I did that with everyone that could last:

We got goofy on the roofy, and my voice was raspy from laughter – I couldn’t have imagined a better final Boston night

It wasn’t until I had all of my stuff packed into my dad’s car this morning that my move became the reality that it had always threatened to be. I took my keys off of the ring they’d been on for the last six years: I was leaving home. I couldn’t really speak much beyond that point, and after choking out, “I’m feeling emotional,” I got my hugs, tried unsuccessfully not to get messy in front of my friends (but, seriously, these are the people that put this together for me), and drove off to my mom’s, where there were more hugs and even messier crying, and then to my sister’s, where there was a conclusion to the teary goodbye we’d began the night before. And then my father and I were off.

Throughout my life, I have been fortunate enough to experience more beginnings than I have endings. And while this move is quite a change for me, I have never felt that it meant the end of the friendships that have granted me so much strength and pride. But, while I expect to return in the future, I know that I will not ever return to what I have just left. My life matures and progresses, but there is a cost for such things, and I do not think I will again spend a month awake every night until the early morning, willing my body to accept physical exhaustion in exchange for friendly affection. I don’t expect to host parties with five-by-a-dozen friends, dancing into the next day on floors slick with beer. I doubt that I’ll often close out the bar and invite the group back to my place to continue the night. Certainly these things will be replaced with analogous joys, but that transition does not occur without melancholy. Change necessarily involves endings.

So I cried today. A lot. I cry as I type. And I’ll miss this way that I’ve lived, and I’ll miss this way in which I have experienced and perpetuated my friendships.

But we’re on the move! I’ve decided that I’m going to try to post each day a little update on my trip out to Missoula. Here’s the map of Day 1:

404 miles from home in Allston to my mom’s to my sister’s to Kelsey’s to a Super 8 in Henrietta, NY

I was so glad to see Kelsey today. I am so proud of the kind of mother that she is becoming, and it makes me happy to know, beyond speculation, that I have a best friend out there who is going to raise a great person. It fills me with hope.