soopastryheart

There are things you take for granted because you never know any different. There are things you take for granted because they are such ordinary, mundane, otherwise uneventful occurrences and chores. There are things you take for granted that you suddenly realize because you’ve spent the last four months 3,000 miles away in a town with the only Starbucks being in the local Target.

I’m sitting here, the aroma of freshly roasted coffee hugging my senses like a long lost friend, sitting at a table with my laptop, Blackberry, and iPod in tow. There’s a man who’s fallen asleep at the table across from me, and I am resisting the urge to go check his pulse. I see more than one pair of Birkenstocks and I’d estimate about 60% of the Tully’s patrons here are wearing North Face. The weather has been gorgeous; a solid 65, clear skies and no signs of rain (although I don’t think I’d mind it at all). I’m looking at every cliché and reputation this city has been given and realize that it’s all true, that there’s a reason behind all those monikers, and that they are every reason why I love Seattle so much.

But it’s not really about the coffee (okay, maybe a little about the coffee). It’s about walking to Trader Joe’s with your headphones in, or taking a lap or two around Greenlake, or meeting for lunch in Uvillage. It’s about the lack of Hummers and big-ass trucks, and the hybrids parked on each block. It’s about barely missing cyclists with your car, it’s about running to yoga and spin class, it’s about the importance of brunch, it’s about sushi happy hour, and it’s about the parking tickets. It’s everything that was once part of my life that I never considered all too special, and everything I’ve missed just a little too much in these past four months.

“Returning home?” has become a surprisingly complex question to answer. As I gave the cabby directions to Laurelhurst, I thought on that question, unsure if the reply I gave was the correct one.

When my parents decided to move to Florida over three years ago, I was heartbroken at the thought of leaving the house I loved so much. But even with the distance between us, I was convinced that home would be where ]ever they were. I felt heartsick throughout the quarter, and during the week and a half stints I’d spend down there, I’d spend half the time thinking about ways I could slow down those 10 or 12 days. Still, whenever I was asked where home was, I’d answer Seattle without a second of hesitation. And in Florida, I still name Seattle as “where I’m from.”

Sure, there are a few perks to living in Florida: the consistent tan, Disneyworld, and Honie. The latter alone is enough reason to keep me, but being back here makes me question if ultimately, it’s the right choice. It’s more than just missing bookstores and coffee shops and high school graduates. I’m a Seattle kid through and through, which means that my CNN-watching, recyling-loving, traffic-tolerant ass will always stand out living in the south. Being back makes me doubt the thoroughness put into the idea of moving to Florida, which only means that at this moment, the overwhelming urge to tell my parents I’m moving back is bordering on fanatical.

But I can say, with 94% certainty that I am exactly where I need to be at this point in my life. There were some major decisions made this summer, ones that I never considered ever having to make, ones that surprised almost everyone, including myself. I need to keep reminding myself to trust in those decisions, to trust my instincts (although I don’t really have the great track record), and to stop questioning and doubting every choice I have made whenever I begin to feel a little nostalgic.

On that note, I really must stop thinking I need to justify and defend this decision I’ve made to everyone I’ve come across. I can almost recite on verbatim the same paragraph I’ve repeated during my visit, and the more often I say it, the more I sound like I’m trying to convince myself as well that this decision is legitimate.

There are certain things I set out to do a long time ago. These are things I promised myself at a very young age that I reinforced throughout high school and college that no matter what, no matter how deluded and discouraged I get, I would mark it off the checklist one day. They are things that shouldn’t be negotiated because of time or deadlines or peer pressure. They are promises that should never be forgotten or amended because they’ve become inconvenient.

And you know what? I don’t consider this a huge gamble or a giant leap of faith. Why? Because underneath my moments of uncertainty lies a foundation that still remains concrete. It’s the same foundation that kept my faith when things were truly at their bleakest. And it’s the same foundation that’s inherently letting me know that this decision is the right one for now, and even if nothing comes of it, I won’t live the next forty or fifty years kicking myself for never giving it a chance.

I am a rubber ball. I gain momentum, cause bruises, and break windows. Sometimes I get stuck up in the drainpipes of the roof, and get drooled on by rambunctious canines. And I can lose speed, idle until I regain my force. If you haven’t figured out the metaphor by now, I’m saying I always bounce back. So even if it appears I’ve lost my focus or I’m deviating, please be assured I’ve done neither. I am no less dedicated or passionate than I was before. And although I don’t always portray the shining example of beaming confidence, I’d like to really believe that ultimately, I know what I am doing.

I purposely parked my rental at Amanda’s and walked the 15 blocks to Tully’s here in Wallingford. I love being surrounded by these total strangers – the kid who looks completely engaged in his physics book, the guy who’s taking up two tables with his massive collection of newspapers, and the group conducting what appears to be a business meeting in the middle of the room with their laptops, bluetooths, and khakis. I’m half-listening to the coffee orders…ones that don’t include Frappucino or white chocolate mocha, but include phrases like double tall, extra foam, and splash of soy. One barista recites a coffee order before the customer can open his mouth, and he only smiles and nods. Trophy Cupcakes is across the street, and I wonder what the flavors of the day are. I love that it’s appropriate to wear a scarf, and I really love that I’ve seen about 15 runners (half of them with dogs/baby carriages/both) pass by the window since starting this entry. I used to have this around me, everyday. And while they may only seem like simple observances and everyday things you can see in any other city, any Seattleite will tell you, it’s different for us. We’re loyal to this place to the very end.

This is why I know I will never be too far from this place. I know I’ll return, fall right back into place, and rekindle our love affair. But right now, because I have chosen to walk away, I will continue to miss Seattle whenever I start to regret. I will compare everything to this city I love so much, and ridicule all those that fall below the standards (I’m a Seattle Snob that way). But I need to remind myself not to let the loyalty and familiarity cloud new opportunities and experiences, because those are the ultimate reasons I’ve made this decision.

Another student just stumbled in, looking completely frazzled, carrying an armload of books. She’s searching for her tumbler in her Whole Foods tote bag, even though I think the last thing she needs is more caffeine. As she waits for her drink, she looks around for an empty table, looking completely disheartened when she doesn’t find one. She shifts the weight of her books, and I spy an organic chem lab manual. A visceral memory triggers and I am reminded of something utterly and undeniably familiar. I tell her that I’m about to leave so she can take my spot, and she gives me a look of relief that I instantly recognize.