Starting Again
Three months ago today, I picked up my life and moved to a new city, in a new state. I know that may not be a big deal to some, but for someone who’s lived in the same small town surrounded by friends and family my whole life, it was a huge deal for me. It was a process full of sadness, joy, fear, excitement, and tears, but I have no regrets.
About six months ago I was closing up the bar I worked at while keeping up a casual conversation with my sole patron. A middle-aged man from upstate NY who was in town for business. That was usually the only reason someone would have traveled to my town, as it was far from being an idyllic tourist getaway. The most exciting yearly occurrence we had was watching the mall-parking-lot circus go up in the Summer and early Fall. The guy I was talking to was an architect working for some nationwide corporation responsible for finalizing designs on manufacturing warehouses. He himself said it wasn’t the most exciting work, but the frequent travel and company card often made up for it. When I told him I had only left that town a few times my entire life, he was almost able to completely hide the shock and slight embarrassment he had for me in his face. He took a sip from his gin and tonic and only gave me a long-winded “reeeally?” while he stared off at a TV. I myself was a little embarrassed as the words left my mouth. Here I was being chatted up by a frequent flier about the hotel chains with the best freebies and the cities with the worst airports when I hadn’t ever even set foot in an airport, much less flown out of one. Suddenly I felt like I had been pushed down a couple levels on the “cool bartender” scale and that this guy realized he wouldn’t have much else to talk to me about. What he said next, however, surprised me.
“I never thought I was going to leave home until I did,” he said as he pushed his empty glass across the bartop to me. Without missing a beat, I topped off the ice in his glass, poured another double of Tanqueray, a splash of tonic, and a fresh lime before sliding it back to him. “What made you finally up and do it?” I asked, trying not to sound like I really cared about what the answer was. “It’s a big world, be a shame to go a whole life only seeing some of it,” he took a sip before leaning back to watch the overhead TV again. After he left, I spent the rest of the hour before close staring out the window at the road.
Today however, I’m by no means a frequent flier yet or an expert on the best hotel soaps, but I’m proud of myself for taking a step that took me out of the danger zone. And by “danger zone” I mean the window of opportunity most of us get in our lives where if you don’t leave home, you probably never will. Asheville, NC is now where I call home. I’m still a hop and a skip away from family down in South Georgia, but the Appalachians are a great reminder of how much left I have to see.
So here I am now, writing my first blog post on my new website that not many people will ever read, but I’m here. If you’ve noticed I haven’t talked at all about photography, weddings, my creative process, or my favorite coffee order, well, that’s because I’m human too. And right now this is the biggest change I have ever gone through in my life, and I’m taking it one step at a time. I hope you’ll stick around to hear about what happens next. Until then, keep wondering and wandering.