When I first moved to the twin cities I was 23. I’d just wrapped up my college years and decided the only way to make it as a writer was to move from my small town life to the big city.
The big city had excitement, energy, and a fresh perspective I’d never fully experienced before.
A year later I walked the streets of St. Paul certain of many things. That my friendship with my best friend from childhood and now ex-roommate had combusted. That depression is real and exhausting. That the 9th level of Marshall Fields is a black hole. And that I had to leave, I couldn’t afford the big city on all I cobbled together while trying to write professionally.
But I was also certain, someday, I would return.
Not because I loved it so much (though I did), or because I had a plan of action not yet implemented (I absolutely did not).
I just knew, somewhere unseen, I was connected to these cities.
I worked and lived in Door County next, Green Bay after that, and Bellingham, MN after that. I made it to Appleton, WI before the wheels started churning back to the Twin Cities.
When my boyfriend at the time was offered a job in St. Paul and he asked what I thought I nodded.
Yes, this was right, this is where he – and I – were heading.
A year later I got a teaching position in a suburb of the cities (after it came down to that position and a position near Appleton) and I nodded yet again.
Yes. It made sense. The Twin Cities hadn’t let go of. There was a long cord attached. I could go and do and move but eventually it would pull me back. It wasn’t done with me yet.
I’ve lived here at least 11 years now – 12 if you include the year I tried after college.
But who I was then isn’t quite who I am now.
Now I live. I write. And I trust that unseen cord that knows best when it’s time for me to return, stay, and, eventually, cut free.
Embracing Next 