Nickels and Dimes

I haven't even left yet, and I'm lonely.  Tonight, I was talking to a friend in Canada and another in LA and realising that even these two relationships are going to change.  Everything is going to change, entropy demands it, but this time is going to be faster and more thorough than others.

I spent what would have been my 11th wedding anniversary sitting in a park in Toronto deciding to move to New York.  Thirty days on, that decision will have been acted on so thoroughly that I will probably have to spend it in a park in New York simply for the symbolism.

Three months ago, I spent 6am in Times Square, and 24 hours later, I was at Younge and Dundas.  A place like that, when you're almost the only one in it, and the screens repeat and the sun rises, feels small.  That was the first bookend; the moment in Toronto, frustrated as always at trying to figure out how to make public transportation work for me when I am too tired to function, when I thought, "You can do this.  You got on a bus to New York City yesterday and went there.  You can get on a bus to go another couple miles.  You drove all the way from Iowa.  In a car.  That you just bought because you didn't die on the way up here.  How did you become the kind of person these things *happen* to?"

A friend said, later, when I mentioned this, "You mean how did you become the kind of person who does things like that?"  She has a point, but I still feel like all my decisions are the result of being pushed in the right direction, and I always feel like I stand still for too long.

It's June, but feels like the end of August with 90 degree days and 60 degree nights.  Summer nights smell like irresponsibility; all of the leftover scents of the day under cooling asphalt and dew.  In August, add the sense that time is rapidly slipping away.  And so it is.  In June.