Last week I did this:
This week I did this:
Except now I seem to be without parachute.
My fear hasn’t quite subsided. It was easier to jump out of a plane than move to New York City.
See when your toes dangle off the edge of a plane, it doesn’t feel as real as it is.
But when your toes dangle off the edge of a noisy subway platform, the reality of the situation comes rushing to your face with the passing of the train. The city is loud, tall, and most of the time it smells. Everyone moves so quickly.
I like the sunshine and the mountains and the oceans and smiling at people on the street.
I’m still scared, and I miss home and the people who come with it. But I know that when I make the leap and let myself free fall, explore flea markets and New York vintage, spend evenings with friends, canoodle with TED, drink my Mud soy chai, and find the treasures that this city has to offer…
I will find my parachute.