My Boiseversary was last week. One year since pulling into this cowtown, unhappy kitty in tow (Dear Kitty hates riding in cars, especially after four 10-hour days on the road). I was scared shitless, unsure of what I was getting myself into, knowing only that I had been overdue for a drastic change and in desperate need of a way to shake off that feeling that I was still a kid. So I paid my first month's rent and collected my house key from the landlord, pulled into my garage, and plopped Dear Kitty on the green carpeting in the empty living room, where she sat down and looked at me as if to say, "This is my last stop. You can keep driving but I am going nowhere." We both knew we were home. I celebrated that night with delivery pizza and a bottle of wine from a local winery, and the next day, got to work unpacking.
A year later, the rooms are full. Art is on the walls and curtains are hung. The garage and spare bedroom are collecting various items to outfit various adventures. The porch has been sat on, grilled on, and partied on. The pathetic garden has been tended and the sad lawn has been mowed. I have seen the mountains and the desert, though there is still much more to see. Some things around here could use some work, but the point is that I have spent the year taking it all in, learning what each season looks like, and now I know how to do it better in the coming year.
I hardly recognize the person I was in DC. That world now feels so foreign, and it has been replaced with a world in which I awaken every morning, hardly believing that is isn't just a fantasy. This is the life that I am supposed to be living. There are some kinks yet to work out, but what would life be without something to strive for?
“You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.” - Dr. Seuss
