Wednesday, August 1, 2012
One year ago today, this is what I set my foot into for the first time: our apartment in Miami. We had just come off a 17-day road trip across the country and were finally setting eyes on the place we leased sight unseen, after hunting down banks and FedEx offices in Reno, Nevada. It would be 29 days before any of our furniture arrived, and in that first month without most of our belongings we celebrated our four-year anniversary, K started his new job, and I settled into my one-year freelance experiment.
In our first year we finally bought some real furniture (couches and a dresser to replace hand-me-down futons and rolling plastic drawers), found a group of insta-friends (magnetic happy feelings and all), and scouted out all the best cheap places to park on Miami Beach. Though K has yet to adjust to Miami summers, I am happy as a clam in this climate; in fact, I'm convinced I was made to live in Miami, and am happy to be rid of winter.
Miami feels comfortable. California is comfortable, too, but Miami is no longer a wild card. For the first time in my adult life, a move has not come with an expiration date (graduation). For all I know, this is where we'll grow old and raise children, and though that realization is totally foreign to me, it's not an unpleasant thought.
So here's to Miami, and any place you've adopted as your home. I'm ready to shed my newbie status and embrace being a local.