12 years, 1 month, and 17 days ago, I made my almost 13 year old self a promise: I would return to Alaska to live one day. I was able to visit the first two summers after I had moved, but the visits were always far too short. I certainly made sure everyone I came in contact with knew of my love for the state.
As I got older, I felt like the dream would never become a reality. I thought about moving up there for college, but the schools didn’t offer what I wanted to study at the time. I researched jobs up there, but didn’t feel like I could make enough to cover living expenses. Something just always seemed to be holding me back. After my trip to Alaska a month ago, I was reminded more than ever of that promise I had made myself as a kid. I hadn’t visited for 10 years, but my memories of my home were as sharp as ever. That’s when I first started planning (really planning) my move back.
One thing I’ve learned in my time in Germany, and really in the past year in general, is to start taking more risks. I’ve started living my life in a bolder way, and I think those actions have had a freeing effect on my attitude. While I’m still aware of responsibilities and the need to think things through instead of acting on every impulse I might have, I’ve stopped dwelling on possible outcomes for so long. I’ve learned to trust my gut a bit more.
December 29 is the moving date. I’ve got a couple of jobs lined up, a place to live with rent less than I ever imagined having to pay, friends that I’m excited to reconnect with more, and a new(ish) man that swiftly became the highlight of every day several months ago (more on that later- I’m still trying to figure out all the best words to start that story).
I know this is the next step I’m supposed to be taking. Things keep falling into place, and I feel at peace. Will I be there forever? Probably not, but while I’m living in the states again, there’s no place I’d rather be.
listening to: Damien Rice