There & Back Again

"Going home?" asks Ennis, a friendly grin on his face as I shuffle into the back seat of his Uber. 

"Yes!" 

"Belltown?" Ennis swerves sharply to the right from the middle lane with the intention of getting on the I-520 ramp from Bellevue to Seattle.

I pause before I answer. "It was home," I s ay. "But I'm moving back to Chicago in two hours."

To say that I'm delighted would be completely accurate. But it does come at some emotional cost, not to mention the exhaustion and mental tussle of a cross-country move.

West Seattle

22 months in the Pacific Northwestern city of Seattle has been educational and interesting, and expensive too if I factor in the 13 trips I made to Chicago in the time.

I moved for work, particularly for the people that I'd be working with, and not for any other reason (more of that tearful rip here). And that is what I will miss most. So while it's not as heart-wrenching as my previous one-way trip, it is a heartache of a different kind.
Given how reluctant and somewhat negative I was at the time, it might come as a surprise. 

But it still hurts. Moving. It is because you're leaving something behind.

What I learned living in a different city is nothing I couldn't have done staying put. But it forces you to think of the now, which is unique to your current environment. And for me, it had its implications in my professional and personal life.

Professionally, I've grown into myself and centered around my identity as an engineer and as a leader. The people around me had more to do with it than they realize. Whether it's the fact that I've gotten a lot more frank and terse, have a lower tolerance for corporate jargon and politically correct B.S., and simply want to focus on the job that needs to be done or the fact that some of my colleagues are also my closest friends.
We've shared laughter and tears, frustration and anger, bonded over the unknown territory of ever-changing scenery, and probably also done up our livers for the worse. We know each other's thoughts, respect each other's work and abilities, and irritate the hell out of each other.

Personally, it's the same story of growth. Dealing with familial situations and trotting around the globe for a hug, leaning (and running) straight into the heart of problems, putting my mind to something, sucking it up and excelling at it...

What I realized even more (and it's something that I knew would happen), is that my comfort zone, that warming sense of peace and calm, is still with the people I grew up around and in the city I can still call home. Because that's where my friends and extended family are.
That and the fact that I am truly a city-girl and not an outdoorsy person.
An adventurer and traveler, perhaps, but a city-slicker to the core. I'm a self-confessed luxury traveler.
I don't like mud and bugs so camping is out of the question unless I have access to hot water (showers) in a private bathroom, and can carry full suitcases (I hate repeating clothes!) and all of my toiletries.

I enjoy access to vast varieties of food and drink - including the ability to order and get pizza or ice cream at 2am in the morning because I suddenly fancy it - spend an entire day in an art museum, constantly have a supply of plays and orchestras performances to attend, high-profile visiting ones too, and concerts, public transport that doesn't smell of weed (yet) and being able to walk anywhere I choose to, and also spend time in the company of people that do not work in the technology industry. I miss the diversity in every form, people, art, culture, professions, cuisine, music, life and interests that a big city caters too. New York and London are my highest examples, Chicago straddles the line well.

It's not that I dislike Seattle, to be honest, I just like other places a lot more.
Consider this: once you've seen the Himalayas, averaging at 29,000ft for endless miles, Mt Rainier stands rather forlorn and alone at 14,000ft.
It is no less fascinating, to be sure. A snow-capped mountain overlooking the sound and green rolling hills with blue streams of glacier waters is a sight to behold. But one holds you in awe and the other in reverence. There is no moment of jaw-dropping, stomach sinking horror setting in when you peek into the mountain's valley, as opposed to a range.

Seacrest Cove

And yet, it's the only place I've been scuba diving. I've earned my certification in the cold waters of the Puget Sound, swum to through the dark abyss to 100 ft to see a Buddha statue, hung about with starfish and crab and nudibranch, frozen my toes until they were blue, and enjoyed every minute of the ~350 minutes underwater.

Will I miss the city of Seattle? The culture of the PNC? The food? The 'tech' vibe? Perhaps not.
I can always, and will, visit any time I choose. But I simply just don't fit into it. I did not experience a "Seattle freeze", but did feel the greyness of the winter months in my every mood, and inhale ashes from forest fire smoke. Despite what people tell you, it's not the rain that will get to you, it's the lack of sunlight, the perception of light, that is awful. Power through that, and it's all ok.

Will I miss the people? Yes.
When I walked around saying my goodbyes and exchanging heartfelt hugs, yesterday, I teared up. I will still be working with all these people, but something will change... a conclusion of sorts, the end of an act.

Like a thread being forced to weave in a different direction than the one it was going.

I made memories with them all. I've forged new relationships, realized the futility of a few and strengthed bonds of others. I know what's worth fighting for and when to move on. I've unnecessarily sometimes, stepped on toes and shown my contempt, and got out of it ruffled but standing just a bit taller.
I could've done it all where I was comfortable. Where there was always someone I knew to catch me. Trying that somewhere new is similar to practicing for a sport on one field and then playing it on another. You learn more from the latter than the former.

What I've embraced in the past (almost) two years is to take a risk, make no excuses and be courageous. It's more about finding your groove, that note of a song which makes you pause to listen, the neutral buoyancy that prevents you from sinking to the bottom of the ocean, the word that makes you think. If you can do that, every risk is worth the benefit you reap.

You get one chance at this, why dawdle?

Mt Rainier (Winter)

Lantern Festival at Greenlake

Shilshole Bay Marina

Snoqualmie Falls