So here I am. I’m really here and it’s already been a week.
It’s hard to shake the illusion that this is just a trip—only a few more days and I’ll be home again with the California sun on my shoulders, driving my convertible through traffic on the freeway, falling asleep beneath the soft whirs of the fan above my bed. But it’s not true. My car is sold, my bed is filled, and here I am sending off the sun. …It’ll take a few hours for it to get to you.
I’m in New York.
I’m in.... New York.
Maybe if I say it enough, it’ll sink in to my jet-lagged brain that yes, I really did move across the country in a week. And yes, I really am living in the most beautiful apartment I’ve ever seen. And yes, I did go from working as a hostess at a restaurant where I had to wear pants that smelled like meat and orthopedic shoes to an office on Wall Street where I wore a red dress and four inch heels two days ago. It really is… real.
Last night I climbed the steps of my five-story walk-up to rest on the beautiful roof-deck atop my building. The cool summer breeze whipped around my shoulders as I turned to gaze at the Empire State Building in all its lit-up, regal glory, and I thought, “It’s good to be here.” Yes, it still feels like I’m on a trip, and yes, I still miss California and my friends and my car and the weather (!) and the beach… And Home. But for now, I’m here. I'm "home."
The night I moved in, I took a tiny calendar from the top of one of my boxes and flipped it to the date. Each day on this calendar has a little saying or inspirational phrase, and it always makes me smile. And last Saturday, July 24th, my move-to-New-York day, it read:
So be truly glad! There is wonderful Joy ahead.
1 Peter 1:6
Lord, let it be true.