What Happens When You Leave
The Week in Selfies: 2/1/21 - 2/7/21
Hello. I have to keep checking to see if it is Sunday because I am worried it’s Monday and I just didn’t go to work.
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Thank you, as always, for being here.
Inevitably, most everyone leaves somewhere.
What is talked about most often is what or who is left behind.
And those who leave do just that, they leave. They pack up, they move, they settle somewhere new. They straddle a canyon that grows wider with every mile added.
There are new day-to-day negotiations. Suddenly, it’s not:
What day next week can I see this person?
It’s
When, next year, will stars and schedules and an on-time flight align so I can see this person?
In an emergency, it’s not:
How fast can I get there?
It’s
Do I have enough money in my bank account or enough room on my credit card to travel there? Will I even make it in time?
It’s not:
I’ll text them now because I know exactly where they are and what they are doing with their day.
It’s
When was the last time I checked in? When was the last time they did?
The work of leaving becomes about maintaining an existing community and family while also building a new one. It’s about missing your home and your people while turning your loneliness into action. It’s about place and miles and time zones. It’s about looking at the curve of the earth and seeing the line between where you have been and where you are going. It’s about making sure that line stays connected.
You need a lot of arm strength to hold onto both ends of a rope across a deep canyon.
Leaving means that time will work against you. Distance will too. And global pandemics. Your heart and your brain will sometimes work with you and sometimes against you. They are all over the place. It’s amazing, really, that they make any decisions at all.
Then there are the existential crises. They neither work with or against. They just are. Showing up unannounced and turning the wistfulness up to 11.
But there is one thing that is always true: it’s okay.
When things are happening and you are sitting alone somewhere, feeling very far away, and questioning every decision you’ve ever made, you realize it’s all okay. Leaving is only miles and time zones and distance. Yes, sometimes those feel insurmountable but, actually, the canyon isn’t growing any larger.
And, you know, if you keep building up your NYC-specific upper body grocery strength, the rope becomes a little less taut and a little easier to hold.
Monday, February 1, 2021
SNOW.
Tuesday, February 2, 2021
Alright hair. Calm down. You’re a little wild there.
Wednesday, February 3, 2021
Loungin’.
Thursday, February 4, 2021
Seriously hair. What is going on?!
Friday, February 5, 2021
Another day, another zoom.
Saturday, February 6, 2021
Colors! Patterns! Outside!
Sunday, February 7, 2021
…a great angle.
This week, it was the monthly haiku salon for paying subscribers. They all got a set of haikus inspired by the word YESTERDAY. If that sounds intriguing to you, consider becoming a paid subscriber.