I remember the first time I was in falling snow. It was junior retreat in high school, and it felt foreign and magical. It felt like anything was about to happen.
These days, I don't know how magical I find the snow. Perhaps I don't find anything in life too magical anymore. When I think back to high school, it feels carefree; when I think back to college, it feels filled with a love I've yet to discover again. I know it's easy to think back and see the past with rose-colored glasses, but even being back in Orange County last week, I felt like I was 22 again--only this time without the pressures of "the future."
I feel like I didn't learn a thing about myself until I moved to college. The person I was growing up in Sacramento feels like an entirely different being than who I am now. Orange County, then the brief period in DC--those feel like formative stages of my life. New York has been formative, in some ways, but it feels like I'm still searching for a foundation here so it isn't just another rocky transition period with an uncertain end.
But in the meantime, I've been enjoying solitude as I think about what comes next and how to find it. I took a walk today after work and watched Harlem unpack itself from the snow. It felt cathartic. It finally felt like the beginning of the new year.
|Riverside Park playground|
|Steps down to the Hudson|
|Friendship garden along Amsterdam|