Do you ever feel like you’re just waiting? Waiting for that ‘perfect’ something, or someone (in some cases)? I find myself saying, “I can’t wait until…” or “I’ll be happy when…” a lot. Often times, the larger of these statements are boggled by some kind of grandiose expectation that meeting a specific event, experience, or even person could be the cure-all to my problems, the pivotal moment in which life magically gets better.
For the longest time, judge me not, my statement of choice was, “I can’t wait until/I’ll be happy when I’m 30.” Actually, to be quite honest, it still is. 30, to me, has always seemed like the perfect number or age for life to fall into its rightful place. That is, the age at which I’ve presumed I’d have a stable and satisfying career, marriage (perhaps), savings account, and so on, and so forth. Essentially, the age at which I’d have it all together…or, so I’d like to think.
The apartment is still a mess, albeit now deemed “home.”
All I really see are empty cardboard boxes lying around in a not-so-neat pile off to the corner, unopened garbage bags of who-knows-whose kitchenware, and wrinkled articles of clothing strewn over the vast beige carpet floor. It just wouldn’t be appropriate of me to humiliate myself (or my wonderful roommates) by publicly displaying photos of our self-inflicted, at-home chaos. At least, not yet. I do, however, have photos of my first meal cooked within my new kitchen! Despite the literal, physical clutter and mental, emotional disarray, I felt my first surge of untarnished happiness and elation. With the counter top cleaned and most of my ingredients mise en place, I stationed myself in front of the cutting board, knife in hand, to chop my first onion, making my eyes water. Though I don’t normally find onion-chopping nor tear-jerking moments (of any sort) very pleasurable, I embraced it joyfully. In that moment, being blinded by the streaming tears that stung my eyes was the most comfort I felt in days, weeks even. With all the changes any move brings, this one in particular held so many implications for me: a deepened sense of independence that I hold yet consistently yearn for, a reunion of old friends, new friends, and past roommates, and the often times heart-wrenching process of letting go to move on, to grow.
And to think, all this from one onion, eh? Continue reading