In exactly 50 days, I will leave home. My safe space. My comfort. All that is familiar to me. I will take a flight from Cleveland, Ohio to Honolulu, Hawaii. I’ll pack things I think I can’t part with, only to discard them later. I’ll leave things behind, only to regret it later. I’ll sleep on my friends’ couch until I have a steady income and we find a new place together. I won’t know anyone besides them and there will be times that I will find that to be perfect and there will be other times I’ll yearn for a familiar face. Though I am excited, I’d be lying if I didn’t acknowledge that the excitement is partially a facade as I’m actually scared shitless.
It’s not a fear that things aren’t going to go well. It’s more my child self acknowledging that I am moving somewhere I’ve never even visited, further away from my friends and family than I’ve ever been. And I don’t know when or if I’ll be back. Meanwhile, my higher self is getting all pumped up and excited because that part of me already knows the great adventure and growth that awaits.
In the meantime, I have a great deal to accomplish before moving day. Boxes, drawers and shelves to empty. Rooms to clean and organize. I’ll have a garage sale in October. I’ll sell my car and drop my insurance. I’ll visit people and places I want to see one last time before heading out. I’ll celebrate 31 years of this life. Per usual, I’ll attempt to document everything through photos and words with the knowledge that there will never be enough photos or words to express myself fully.
Here we go.
*photo taken by Troy Foky