I moved into a city apartment this week. This is an exciting step for me, as I’ve always wondered if I could live in the city, alone, and maintain my sanity. I’m one week into my experiment and my heart is shouting and repeating, “Yes.”
I love it here. The antiquity of my appliances and the rich hardwood: I fantasize about what my life would’ve looked like 50 years ago, in this very same place.
Everything feels so whimsical here. Warm summer breezes and lavender found their home inside of the arched doorways of my second story flat. And there are other things – like excitement – flirting around, asking me to take more chances. Right now life feels like there are sparks everywhere, opportunities as ample as the Chippewa streetlights, and I get to choose which ones to ignite.
So, for right now, I’m not going to worry about the next steps or the best plan. I don’t care that a decision hasn’t been made one way or the other. This moment is fun. And for the first time in a long time I’m not overly concerned that something awful is waiting in the wings.
Standing still and letting life happen is what my city summer is going to be all about.