I was sincerely not going to write today, because, well, another week has gone by and, though it's been good, no exciting adventures have arisen. I went to brunch with Bethany the other day, but, as nice as it was, there was no interesting story there. My eggs were undercooked, I guess. And I looked at them and Bethany instantly read my expression and was just like, "Just send them back." Oh, how wonderful friends are! Those are the people that really know you, rain or shine, best and worst.
And I'm not always proud of being crestfallen at the state of my food, but if anyone knows how much I enjoy good dining, well, it's Bethany. And she knows that I would have sat there going back and forth in my head, contemplating etiquette and trying to toughen up and just accept it and thinking way too much. So she put that to a stop before it even began.
The rest of the week, I've just been taking everything in, still and gently acclimating to this new phase of my life, being quite fascinated by how quickly things change and then we are on a whole new trajectory and have no idea what's to come. I've been thinking about that a lot. About all sorts of things.
On my way home the other day, I was sitting in traffic contemplating the path that takes us to the place we are. It's a phenomenal thing to examine, really.
I remember, back in Boulder, when I was about to graduate from college and I was petrified, just completely petrified, about what I was going to do next. Because I would no longer have the comfort of that campus and classes and learning for the sake of learning but was going to have to decide what to do. I had absolutely no clue.
And I pictured myself standing there out in the grass in my gown, my cap thrown somewhere off to the side, by the library maybe, everyone clearing out, hugging each other. The podium taken away, people working well into the afternoon to break the ceremony down. The sun setting slowly, the light changing, and me, still standing there, afraid to move, not able to walk away from that security. And all would be quiet eventually and I would be a panic-stricken statue on the lawn and the night would get cooler and the breeze would touch my cheeks and blow through my hair. And the future would look like an empty void. And I wouldn't know what to do and maybe I would just stand there in that old safety forever.
But I realized, at some point, basically about a day before I graduated, that I was just going to have to take that one first step no matter how afraid I was and it would trigger the future. And it didn't mean that I knew what I was going to do, but it also meant that I didn't have to know. I just had to take one step and trust something. Because nothing never happens.
Then I did. I took a step and another and another and they continued to bring me my life.
And soon, there was San Francisco, the bridge and the fog, everything new, and I was still quite frightened. The days running through Golden Gate Park trying to piece everything together on my long runs. Which, in retrospect, now that I've been out in the world a bit longer, I think was not the safest of things. One young girl running through the biggest park in a city full of crazies on empty trails in the woods to the beach at any given hour of the day. I've always been pretty trusting and naive, but I don't know if I'd do that now. At least, I'd map it out better.
Ah, wow, it's been a while since my San Francisco days have crossed my mind. I've done so many different things since then. But that was a part of bringing me here and to wherever it is I'm going.
I'll tap into those memories more in the future. There are too many from that time and they mean so much.
In any case, it is truly fascinating to reflect on how much has gone into this one small life. And how it only always takes one step for it to continue to unfold.
So, I guess, in the quiet times between working and undercooked eggs, I have mostly just been astounded to discover myself here. And not still standing on a lawn in my graduation gown.