Leaving town…

It’s funny when you catch yourself becoming the person you promised yourself you would never become. Don’t get me wrong, there is absolutely nothing wrong with staying in one place and being stable. But honest to God, I never thought that I would chose to stay put over choosing to move. When I used to go to places: camp, Mexico, Spain, Ireland, France…. It was always hard leaving. Not being in transition not getting there, but leaving. Like when I used to go to camp, I would sit on the bus with all the other campers, excited about the summer and adventures to come. Then I’d stare out the window and see my mother. Her eyes would water and she’d get this look on her face. The look of letting her little girl go, and trusting I’ll make it through okay. And I would feel this weight in my stomach and my heart would ache just a little bit, and then I’d feel guilty.  Then the bus would pull away and I’d be fine. Leaving even today is still like that, it takes every being in my body not to look back and decide to go. More often than not when I go somewhere, I just want someone to ask me to not leave, but nobody does. And that’s fine. So I bid my farewell and walk away, never looking back.

Last summer I was sitting with my mother in her bathroom, watching her fix her hair. And she looked at me and said “You really have to get a job this year. I’m not kidding” I had heard this a million times, and I just nodded. I do need a job, I understand that. It’s just finding one that’s the hard part. That night I hit craigslist, looking for an international nanny job.  There had to be something on there. I applied for three or four jobs in various countries, and just decided it was time to wait. I dialed Berkley’s number on my cell and rehashed the conversation I’d had with my mother.  “So what did you do?” she asked me. “I applied for a nanny job in France, one in Italy, and one in Thailand… I think it was Thailand. It might have been Japan.” The line was silent for a minute before Berkley finally said “That is not what your mother meant when she told you to get a job.”

I almost had a job with a family in Italy, and as it was getting closer and closer to actually getting a final answer, I became more and more nervous. There was so much I had to do in the month before I would leave: release my apartment, pack up my stuff, sell my car, store my stuff, say goodbyes. Then I was hit with an unexpected thought. Do I really want to leave Wilmington? I love this city. That feeling didn’t set too well in my stomach. I had never second thought a chance to travel. What’s happened to me? And I realized that I had changed, and I wasn’t too excited about it.

But if change is what it’s going to take to be happy, then so be it.


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