The Move
I am afraid. Thirty-two thousand feet in the air, warm and comfortable in a blanket, some coffee, a drink and food at hand, the only confession I can make and admit to myself is that I am terrified. Of all the things I just left behind and the choice I’m hurtling towards. My heart is in my throat right now and I cannot stop the tears that I keep dabbing away. Less than an hour ago, I boarded a plane from Chicago to Seattle. As I went past security, a TSA agent asked me if I was heading home. I found myself tongue-tied. I was leaving home. A place I made my home in and going away. A conscious decision, I should add, but I was still leaving. For nearly 6 months now I’ve known this was bound to happen. Two months ago I signed certain papers and it became official. As I revealed the news to those closest to me, it slowly began to sink in that I wouldn’t see them again. Some of my best friends had already left Chicago and while I felt their absence keenly, it never struck me as a fina