Bye, Bye B-Town

Well, I woke up this morning, a rainbow filled the sky
Yes, I woke up this morning, a rainbow filled the sky
Well, that was God telling me everything's gonna be alright








Well, so long good friends, when will we meet again?
I said so long good friends, when will we meet again?
Well, I don't know, I don't know, but I guess I'll see you then








Well, I'm gonna pack my old guitar, move on down the road
Where I go I don't know, but I guess I gots to go

Well, I woke up this morning, a rainbow filled the sky
Well, I woke up this morning, a rainbow filled the sky
That was God telling me everything, everything's gonna be alright.

Rainbow, Jack Johnson

The First of Many Lasts

Yesterday morning I said goodbye to my sister, her husband, their youngest two children, and most of my furniture, clothing and shoes. As I watched them drive away, I realized that this goodbye was the first of many to come over the next six weeks. And as I replayed it in my mind, the reason for my sister’s sadness finally hit me—it was also the last time I would see her for an indefinite amount of time. I’ve got a one-way ticket out of here without any idea of when I’ll be returning. This goodbye was the first of many lasts, which left me feeling a bit undone.

I reviewed the photos taken during their stay. There wasn’t a single one of my sister and me together or of me with my niece or nephew. And it rained throughout their entire visit. This place has been my home for nearly 4 years and I didn’t get to show them why. Then, I found myself assessing the skeletal remains of my closet, upset that I hadn’t given her this shirt or that dress. I looked around my room and saw a wallet I should have given her, oh, and I meant to ask her to hold onto that T-shirt for safekeeping. It has sentimental value, but now it’s too late. What will I do with that T-shirt now!

Feeling deflated, I realized that I just needed to stop. I needed to stop with these small regrets. I’m sure that someone else might appreciate a new wallet. I needed to stop feeling bad about things that are out of my control. I consider myself a person with some talents, but sun dancing is not one of them. I needed to stop and sit and think. I needed to figure out how to shake this feeling of inevitable failure and impending regret. I decided to make a list.

My list is of the things that I know I want to experience for one last time. They are made up of the things that I love most or have some of my fondest memories of doing in VT. I figure that with sufficient planning I’ll be able to escape BTV with limited emotional baggage. In no particular order:

1. Muddy's Chocolate Espresso Shake
2. KK's Rise and Shiner with Bacon
3. Hike Mt. Mansfield with lots of yummy food
   
4. Run the entire bike path
5. Individual runs with J, B, Em and E.
   
6. A day on the lake with friends and cocktails on A's boat
7. Grace Potter concert on the Waterfront
   
8. Bangkok Bistro's Calamari and Massaman Tofu
9. Maura's Fabulous Salad and the Planet Burger
10. A leisurely day on Church Street of cocktails, lunch and shopping w/ EKB
11. A picnic with Friends at Leddy Park
12. Time with out-of-state friends and family
    
13. A final reading with D
14. Dinner and a movie at Q-Monroe's with J, Oli and Ella (This is not a hint, I swear!)
    

$.25 Hotdog Night!

Last night was one of my favorite summer events in B-Town. Three years ago I was introduced to $.25 Hotdog Night at Centennial Field, home of Vermont’s minor league baseball team, the Lake Monsters (formerly known as the Vermont Expos). At the time, I hadn’t eaten a hotdog for somewhere around 14 years (or whenever it was that I learned what they were actually made of). Fortunately, a baseball game is the perfect place to put such things aside. And, for that evening, that is exactly what I did by eating my fair share of wieners. Since then, $.25 Hotdog Night has become an annual outing and the one night a year that I happily eat hotdogs for dinner.

Oh, and did I mention the view...

TBD

Vietnam. It’s where I’m headed to next. People are naturally asking me why I chose Vietnam. My response is very simple: Why not Vietnam?

I am 30 years old. I rent. I have no car. No pets. No boyfriends. No kids. No debt! I do have a job that I love and hate in the very same moment. And, I do own a geranium, which does hold a miniscule of sentimental value since it was stolen from a cheating ex-boyfriend as an act of pure, malicious, liberating revenge. As much as I love and hate my job and as much as I enjoy being sent into nostalgic bliss at the sight of my “love plant,” it’s just not enough.

So, what is enough? And, why do I think I’ll find it in Vietnam?

Honestly, I don’t really know.

What I do know is that I want to live a life that I can look back on and be proud that I lived it well and to the fullest, that I took advantage of the unique opportunities I was presented and that I at least tried to make a difference and to leave the world just a little bit better. Wherever I am, I want to know without reason that that is exactly where I belong, and whomever I’m with is exactly whose arms I need to be in.

I know that everyone has choices to make, whether they end up as good or bad choices is irrelevant. The important part is living with intention, being conscious of the possible consequences of each decision and being willing to live with those consequences. I’m making this choice because I don’ want to ever wonder, what if? I’m at peace with stepping to the edge of the unknown and making the choice to leap. Now whether or not I soar or even land on both feet, well, that is yet to be determined.

Underworld, by Don DeLillo

“…In school they tell him sometimes to stop looking out the window. This teacher or that teacher. The answer is not out there, they tell him. And he always wants to say that’s exactly where the answer is. Some people look out the window, others eat their books.”