A Thousand Miles/Old Friends With New Faces/Losing Sight of Everything

I’m moving. In June. To Florida.

I’m moving.

To Florida. A thousand miles away.

I don’t understand why this is so hard for me to say. I can’t speak those six simple words out loud. They get stuck in my throat like crickets. Perhaps I’m hoping that if I don’t admit them to myself, they won’t be true.

I live in Virginia, as close to the oceans as one can get. The weather here is insane due to the fact that we are on a peninsula, surrounded on three sides by water. Our seasons aren’t so much seasons as they are sea-directed rapid shifts of snow one day and sunburn the next. I was born in Jacksonville, Florida, but I have lived here in Virginia since before kindergarten. I remember not knowing why we were packing up our things and leaving (Navy dad), just that we were. I remember running up the steps to the big white apartment complex we’d be moving into and stepping right on top of a sharp-end-up nail, lodging it deep into my foot. I remember limp-running into my new home, crying from the pain but giddy.

Years later, we moved to the house I live in now. I thought it was the most beautiful place. I loved my neighborhood and the friends I made down the street. This was the place where I fell in love with words, with shady groves and maple trees and forests that were magical only in my own head. I colored twigs and sticks Sharpie-black and pretended like they were Harry Potter wands (HP was the first and only love of my life), then stained my jeans with the ink and got reprimanded. I was gifted a tiny green parakeet for my birthday and quickly became afraid of it. I sat in my bed on Christmas Eve at ten years old crying because I was terrified of growing up and losing everything I had, afraid that I hadn’t lived a good enough childhood (I met our good old friend called ‘existential crisis’ at a very young age).

Virginia has a lot of my memories. Here I met the friends that I’ll remember for the rest of my life, the rag-tag group of seven writers I call my “dead poets society.” Our group isn’t exactly a group anymore… there’s been a lot of falling out, and I lost my best friend. If you’re reading this, and you might because I’ve posted the link to my blog everywhere, I love you. You’re always welcome back home.

Okay. I’ve become a crying mess typing this. I’ve more or less accepted the fact that I’m going to be moving and leaving my old life behind while starting a new one in Florida. I’ve accepted it, but I haven’t accepted the life I’ll be losing. It hurts.

 

Part II of this nonsensical rant: WHAAAAT is wrong with my heart?

That’s all I’m going to say about this.

Until next time, I hope you all enjoyed my emotional outpour.

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3 thoughts on “A Thousand Miles/Old Friends With New Faces/Losing Sight of Everything”

  1. I am a Florida native myself. I’m afraid I can’t help much with the moving part as I’ve never really had to deal with moving before, but I think I can offer some words of encouragement for when you finally arrive here. Florida has its quirks, but as you get used to living here, you may grow to love those quirks: random thunderstorms breaking out during summer afternoons, ridiculous news stories, no snow (hence my username), and the wearing of flip flops year-round. But it’s also much more than beaches and theme parks, more than tourists and retirees (though I will admit that I adore the senior citizens that choose to retire here). It’s about beautiful sunsets in the winter and spring (can’t say much about sunrises, my house faces west and the eastern view is covered by trees), neighbors being there for each other, and maybe even finding inspiration in the view outside your front door or the people you meet.

    Whenever you arrive, Florida will welcome you with open arms. I don’t know you, but I wish you the best of luck in whatever lies ahead for you.

    Like

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