At last, the paintings have found themselves fastened to drywall; the cabinets are stocked with bagged chips and canned tuna; and the power sockets are transmitting electricity to foreign appliances. I feel emotions of unfamiliarity, disorientation, and wonder. I imagined I would feel this way upon my parents’ departure. One can count on fear lurking in the shadows of the unknown. It doesn’t feel like a Kansas City vacation as it had previously, but more like something uncharted, mysterious even. This nervous reaction, initiated by moving to a new city, is exactly what I was searching for, so I can overcome it and become more resilient in the future. I have a million questions sprinting laps around my cranium: What will my new routine look like? Will I become the healthy, motivated version of myself that I anticipate? Will I indeed become the customer service queen at my new place of employment? I must take it one day at a time I suppose.

The initial week here has been, in a word, exhilarating. Sam and I both had our parents trek out to the city to help us get settled in. We hit a few of our favorite KC spots from jazz bars and martinis to sushi and saki. We made our new apartment picturesque. It’s the home I always dreamed I would live in: full of delightful coffee, flavorsome wine, various musical instruments, timeless literature, prosperous plants and a hummingbird feeder hanging in the patio welcoming miniature, winged friends. I have truthfully never felt so in my element. I’ve even met fascinating people here that might become great friends over the next few years. I hope to unearth wild adventures in this city. Maybe even rally new travel partners I can investigate the world with.

But of course there is that lingering gloom from leaving my family, the people I love the most in this world. It’s so quiet here. No thumping of tiny baby knees on the tile floor up above me, no humming of the automatic vacuum cleaner at nine AM, no demands bellowing up and down staircases. It’s strange, almost sad, but also peaceful in an inexplicable way. I have discovered that without a houseful of familial commotion I have much more uninterrupted time in solitude. I am interested to see if I will use it for reflection and developing my talents, or if I will spend more time taking naps and drawn out bubble baths. I should strive toward the former, but you know how people are, and I am human. I think here I may be missing little bits of my heart that can be tapped into through FaceTime and phone calls; but in their absence, I will likely discover focus and fortune. In my loneliness I will find independence.

In my freedom I will find discipline. In my discomfort I will find strength.