forty-two days stationary in springtime. cherry blossom petals snowing upon stationary windshields. taking up residency in a stationary space filled with cook books, stained rugs, fresh urban eggs, and tabby cat hair upon my faded white down comforter. past rituals quickly re-emerged calming my spiraling self into stationary settlement.

forty-two days of stacked schedules layering dance on top of yoga on top of cross fit on top of climbing on top of work/trade massage on top of work/trade facials on top of work on top of friends on top of church on top of sleep on top of baths. a seemingly endless list of layers that gladly replaced the translucent wash of travel that tints my usual existence.

a pause with purpose.

i returned from australia at the end of february intentionally ready to reacquaint myself with myself. after two years of bouncing from place to place, the emotional unsettlement of drifting was creeping into my throat, coating it like a dairy-induced phlegm impossible to swallow away.

instead of allowing it to overthrow my carefully crafted balance, i gave into it. i paid more money than i would have liked to secure a house. a space to call my own for the month of april. to sort through my belongings without undesired distraction and regroup before packing it all back into a 5’x7’ cube.

as i clicked the lock closed on my downtown portland storage unit and finalized the cross-country shipment of my car back to the loving care of family members this past week, the excitement butterflies began brewing deep in between my belly and chest. that space right below the xyphoid process that seems to be a big gaping hole waiting for substance. fluttering feelings bursting out of their safe cocoons joined that irksome lump looming in my throat.

i wait for one to dissolve the other, but the excitement of nomading just stands alongside the belonging of consistent community. two contradicting ideals hovering in the same space trying to capture a unanimously desired sense of calm.

i’m pretty sure this is what your twenties are all about. swimming through the contradictions of your wavering fantasies of what life will eventually be like…one day.

one day…i’ll have a physical home with furniture that i didn’t put together myself named words i can’t pronounce.

one day…i’ll know my neighbors by name and share my sugar with them.

one day…i’ll be able to walk to the farmer’s market and smile at the same farmers week after week.

one day…but that day is not today.

it’s been four days since i wrote the above on the airplane from denver to los angeles, and after spending the weekend enjoying the company of friends who have already achieved their “one days,” i am ready to board an airplane back to my today and sacrifice tomorrow for wide open sun kissed arms with calloused hands and dirty fingernails anxiously waiting to hug me after i journey 7,162 miles down under.