New adventures, of a sort

Tonight is my first night in San Francisco.

Mostly.

I've stayed up here before, night here, night there, and a bunch of times way back when Kris and I first started dating when he lived up here. It seems a lifetime ago, actually. I hated the commute then, I hated the commute now. Having a ten minute walking commute sounds fantastic.

So, here I am, walking home.

In the City.

And I feel desperately alone.

Moving up here is the right decision, but walking back to the apartment, on my own again for the first time in a decade, I feel sorry for myself. I think of the changes in the last few years, I think of heading back to the apartment carrying my clothes and a box of toiletries, and think how this just feels completely right and completely wrong at the same time.

I think about my little brother, and his move to Portland last year (yay me!), and how he gave up his entire world to move a thousand miles away and start a new life. He moved with one friend, no job, and only a six month head start to get his feet under him.

And he did it.

He's happier than he has ever been (I think, that's the rumours I hear coming from his mouth). When he returns to his old city, his friends look at him and exclaim he has become the person he was meant to be, but couldn't quite manage in the closed town he was in, but now, now! he has blossomed, and they all love him more for becoming the person he was always supposed to be.

And as I sit in my room with my laptop balanced on my lap, thinking about how I'm willing to sacrifice this year of my life with the faith that I'll be in a better place at the other side, I take hope from my brother's strength. I'm not really alone, I'm just moving from one place to another, with an adventure along the way.