Now That It's Been a Year

A year ago, today, I took my suitcases, kissed my mother goodbye, and I boarded a plane for New York. A year ago and it feels like a mere moment. A year ago, and it feels like forever.

Journal Excerpt, May 2009:
I go to America. What is it I hope to find? The answer comes surprisingly easily. I think I go to find myself.

And all the work that I did over those years in Gothenburg, rooting myself and becoming a stable person able to discern the grays and make sensible decisions, I threw it all out the window. I slowly undid every stitch in my stable web, until the blacks and whites that I'd longed for were clear, until the madness that I'd missed moved back into my soul. You win some, you lose some. You just make sure that the choice you made was right. Whatever that means.

New York eats me like a monster, a jealous lover. There is room for nothing and no one else. I am not sorry. I forget whatever it asks me to, I am swallowed whole, and I walk into the dark with a smile on my face.

I rarely think anymore of how much I miss what I left, how much I gave up to be here. I am here now, I live here. My roots when they grow, dig themselves into the earth beneath Manhattan pavements, nestle their way into subway systems and sewers where the summer stench of garbage nestles its way into my pores without reprieve.

I walk the streets of New York City with my back straight. I look people in the eye. I look people in the soul and I am not afraid. My two feet are planted on this sidewalk, my heart, my lungs, my very eyelashes.

June 6, 2009:
This is me, moving to New York. This is years of longing, over. New York, honey, I'm coming Home, if you'll have me, still.