I thought that adjusting back to the Texan's lifestyle would be challenging. I guess there is nothing at all challenging about the routine I developed immediately upon returning home: wake up, remove PJ's, put on swim suit, grab iPod, cell phone, water bottle, towel, and lay in pool chair...continue laying in pool chair until you can't produce anymore sweat and you absolutely must jump in the pool...jump in pool. Repeat daily.
The only obstacle I've noticed is driving. I can't seem to get my car to go over 60 mph without feeling like I'm doing laps at Texas Motor Speedway. I'm getting there though...slowly.
I packed my life up once more and loaded it all into my car. My entire life fits into my maroon X-Terra, not at all comfortably or in a way that's really highway safe, but it fits. Getting back to school meant getting a good hug I'd been waiting a long time for. It meant two new roommates to share coffee with in the morning and closets with at night. It meant multiple "how are you's" and "did you have a good summer's?". I have already acquired new skills, like painting a kitchen orange in your underwear while drinking white wine, making sure to jump off the counter gracefully to skip the lame songs that come on the shuffle. I'm clearly a bonafide multi-tasker.
It's exciting to see my old friends in their new houses with their big smiles painted on their faces as they show me around. It seems we are all happy to be growing up. When are we supposed to stop being happy about getting older?
My thank you notes are written, addressed and stamped. They're starring in me in my face as we speak begging to be sent out. One for my boss at ABC, one for my boss at Haute PR, one full of thanks and promised prayers for Mary, and one for my dad's boss thanking him for the plane ride back home. Honestly, I'm not looking forward to sending them away. When they're gone, it means that it really is all over.
My bed is made, my clothes are hung and there are two boxes of Kashi in my pantry. So, this must be home.
Page Twenty-Nine: Now What?
I ended my adventure viewing the city from Top of the Rock on one last adventure with the British boy, then looking out the window of a Challenger down at the place that I called home for three months. I was blessed with perfect timing and was able to ride in the back of an empty jet, non-stop to Texas with the pilot I trust the most...my dad. He had a trip to New Jersey and I met him at the airport, loaded my tons and tons of lugguge into the back of the plane and napped on a leather couch for the 2 hour and 52 minute ride to Fort Worth. I love sneaking into the life of luxury, even if only for a moment, even if it really is only a fluke. My dad let the other pilot take over for most of the flight so we could catch up on the happenings of an unforgetable summer in New York City. I shared my stories and relayed my adventures in a way that is suitable for the ears of parents. Have I mentioned how grateful I am to have parents like the ones I have?
I was lugging one of my bags up the stairs in my house to be greeted by a little fellow, an unexpected visitor, one that you would only find on your stairs in Texas. I screamed "Lizard in the house, lizard in the house" until my dad came and caught the little guy. This is why my mom yells at my dad when he leaves the door out to the pool open. The backyard and all of it's tropical rainforest-esque vegetation is a much more suitable habitat for creatures of his kind. His tail fell off when my dad caught him to put him back in his happy place.
So now I'm back. I'm back in Texas with more clothing than I came with, more shoes, more stuff in general. I also came back with more life experience, a few more friends, and an entirely new outlook on how I want to live, love and be loved. My world has been changed by a place, and now I find myself back where I started. I'm not writing from a cubicle on the 17th floor of 2 Penn Plaza or an upper eastside apartment. I'm back in my bedroom in Texas. I can't help but wonder, now what?
I guess these aren't the Intern's Confessions anymore, are they? I guess these are the Ex-Intern's Confessions, the Texan's Confessions, the College Student's Confessions. I don't know what's going to fill these pages from now on and I don't know how I will be organizing my thoughts from here on out. But if I know myself at all than I know that the adventures are nowhere near over.
I try not to live in the past. I try to make clean chapter breaks when it comes to life and I try to be the girl with the smooth transitions. There's only one last thing to do before I say goodbye to what was once The Intern's Confessions... my ode to New York City and what it's made me:
Thanks for terrifying me, smacking me in the face, bringing me to tears, making me feel lonely for the first time in my life, stealing all of my money, mutalating the bottom of my feet, ruining all of my high heels, destroying my once golden bronzed skin, introducing me to people I'll know for life, throwing me into jobs I was not quite ready for, helping me to master Microsoft Excel, showing me the hard life, letting me get a glimpse into the life of the man on the subway who never arrives at his stop because the subway is his refuge and his home, showing me what hungry, poor, hurting, tired, broken, defeated looks like, and thank you that I've never had to be this person.
Thanks for blinding me with the city lights, shutting me up when I wanted to complain, letting me feel the most free I've ever felt, allowing me to get lost, giving me the opportunity to figure things out on my own, for laughing, running, walking, shopping, drinking, singing, swimming, dancing, learning, growing, teaching, loving, hating, fearing, hoping, aching, smiling.
It's really good to be home.
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