Somewhere

Sometimes if I squeeze my eyelids shut tight enough and wish really hard I can imagine that I’m sitting on a front porch watching people pass by.  I know every single one of their names. The weather’s nice—not too hot, and not too cold, with a soft breeze.  There’s a scent in the air of flowers that are just starting to bloom. I’m on a couch, probably, and maybe there is a friend with me; maybe there is a handful of friends, or maybe I’m there with a book, content by myself. I’m facing the street, but there’s no traffic. A car every 7 minutes or so, ambling by in no real rush.

When I close my eyes hard enough, I picture a place that isn’t here.

I spent a long time today just sitting outside my building thinking. It’s been under construction since before I moved in. The cranes and jackhammers just feel part of my routine by now; part of my normal view. The construction men that seem to never go home smoke their cigarettes slowly, laughing at jokes that I can’t hear. The dress I wore grazed my knees and I watched the lace create strange shadows on my thighs. The fabric was dark and my legs were pale and I shivered in the wind as I sat on the stoop outside in the dark.  I swung my feet back and forth, the flats on my feet were precariously thin and the headphones over my ears with music turned loud enough that I could pretend like the world immediately surrounding me doesn’t exist. Lyrics of Laura Marling songs weaving through my mind, the timber of her voice just low enough that I can feel it reverberating in my bones.

Sometimes I get overwhelmed by how big New York is. The sheer amount of people that inhibit this space.  The volume of people.  The volume of noise.

I don’t think I’m a city person. I miss small towns and friendly neighbors and aimlessly walking late at night up and down safe but unfamiliar streets. I miss that comfort; that sense of place.

I feel unsettled here. Like this isn’t where I should be. Isn’t where I want to be. I don’t know where I want to end up, though. All I know when I close my eyes I see porch swings and aimless strolls at midnight.

Perseverance is a trait I admire, but I’m not so good at keeping at it. I can be flighty and unsure of myself. I can’t ever seem to settle down.

These days I’m starting to imagine a little more what that hazy, nebulous thing we call the future might actually entail.   Where will I be? What will I do? Will I be happy?

I’m starting to make those choices and narrow down those decisions. To take my life in a direction—down a highway for now; but one that offers lots of exits, lots of side streets and through-ways I could take. Maybe someday I’ll turn the car around. Maybe I’ll lose the map entirely. Maybe I’ll end up on the sidewalk on a small town, or the porch of an apartment of a big city. The choices are exciting and overwhelming, inspiring and scary.  And I am heading toward them every day.