I remember wondering about who I would be in Idaho before I came to Idaho. I was in this holding place in California for a summer. I knew I was leaving and I simultaneously wanted to get on with it and yet also stay still where I was because I knew nothing would ever be the same. And I was certainly right about that and wrong about a lot of other beliefs I held at the time. This time right now feels much like that expect the opposite set up and on the other side of the journey. And yet how same, how unbelievably and hilariously same this feeling, this holding space is to that one. And I am wondering yet again what kind of woman I might be when all this is over.
I took a walk through the north end this evening and on streets I’ve been walking for years there are yards I know well and homes where I’ve had drinks and corners where I froze in the winters, houses I once lived in. It seems slightly insane that an entire life can be wrapped up in a place how the smallness of here folds in on itself and keeps all these memories so close knit together.
When I think about Idaho it’s going to be my skylights and sour beer, the apartment on Jefferson and the smell of sweet dry desert air, and hot yoga with the windows on 8th and morning coffee from the Co-op and the taste of Srriacha. But as my favorite woman would say, Goodbye To All Of That.
And I think sometimes it is easy to not be in the mood to become or to change or do the hard work of getting over something like this. It’s a strange space to feel so much for a place to want so badly to stay and to need so badly to go. I cannot keep you even if I want to while I go on long walks and lay in bed at night.