My bank accounts were empty, my motivation was thwarted, and the dream I had held onto for so long had been unmasked and revealed for what it really was: Just a game of luck. And I refused to be the joker.
To be honest, I still occasionally struggle with this. I remember the first time I referred to my mother and stepdad as “my parents” it felt a little like I was cheating on my father’s memory. Was it okay? Was I allowed to have a place in my heart for another dad?
Big-city celebrities once fled to the forgotten hills of distant pockets of civilization off the 15 Freeway. When I drive down Lakeshore today, I can start to understand why.
Want to trade your yummy dessert recipe for a house??
I was striving to see the world, to travel, to live in different places, to meet new people, to be wild, free, and independent of culture and people. I wanted to live on my own terms.
Growing up in New York City, you get used to a certain lifestyle: A fast pace, no time for small talk, no patience whatsoever. But when you leave the city for a breath of fresh air, you leave all of that behind.
Home has become a boring, unattractive place full of the same people who complain about and hate what they’re doing for almost all their life but are too afraid to change it and go after what they really want. I left and came back and things were still the same.
Since I was a small child, I’ve wondered why people should have to live together. It’s wonderful when you want to be together, mind you, but what about when you don’t? Doesn’t it make more sense to have the option, either way?
My house is clean. My brain is empty. I spend an entire Sunday not speaking to anyone. It rains and I’m bored, unable to write or focus on a book or do anything remotely productive.
We ran and ran until we couldn’t run anymore, until our issues were too loud for granite countertops to fix.