Albany: It's Not "Goodbye," but "See You Soon"
I've moved around a lot the last four years. My family's moved three times - each requiring me to adjust to a new location of Jersey I had to try to call "back home" - and I've moved five. Living on campus means bouncing around to different areas, and even if you're living in the same place the following year, the room is never the same so you have to move. I have to say it's not as bad as military life, not that I'd know except through vicarious recounts from friends, but it's still pretty sucky. I've had a longer relationship with some of my cardboard boxes than any boyfriend I've dated! Isn't that wild? I bet our wedding would be beautiful. ("I now pronounce you Box and Bride.")
And for round six, I find this move to be a tad drastic, a lot heavier, and slightly more surreal. A year ago today, I was preparing to fly to El Salvador: a new adventure and temporary, lasting two weeks. Today, I also begin a new adventure and possibly temporary as well, lasting four months. But even if this apartment I'm heading to may not be a permanent fix, it is a monumental moment in my adult life. I'm officially out of the place I've called home for nearly four years and venturing to a new city and moving in with a new set of people, one of which is my boyfriend.
I think at this point it's time to get cliche. Whenever you leave the city you went to college in; the one you began your new journey in, learning that dorm rooms are never as cool as the ones you saw on tour and dining hall food really cannot compare to what you see in the Gilmore Girls; the one you arduously learned the bus routes in, trying desperately not to appear like a freshman; the one you grew and cried and developed and made new friends and lost new friends in; whenever you leave that place, I think it's hard not to feel sappy.
I can't say that it's really hit me yet that I'm moving to Brooklyn, yet another time of cardboard boxes and moving vans. I can't say that it's really hit me yet that the routes and buses I've memorized will be replaced by new ones that involve underground subway travel and over priced Metros. I can't say that it's really hit me yet that my 3.5 year long distance relationship involving texts, snapchatstory, Skype dates, $40 bus tickets and meticulously planned weekends around class and work schedules, and written letters will come to a halt as I wake up every morning to the most beautiful and loving smile I know. I can't say it's hit me yet that come late August, I'll be starting a new set of classes and walking into a building where I have to flash my ID for entrance every Tuesday and Thursday dressed in business casual, instead of lazily coming into various classrooms with cell-phone-in-sports-bra and hands in oversized sweatpants after maneuvering through the college construction. I can't say it's really hit me yet that everyone who I'm
leaving behind can really say that I've left, that I'll be the one surprising old friends by taking the trip up and scheduling my visit around their busy lives.
leaving behind can really say that I've left, that I'll be the one surprising old friends by taking the trip up and scheduling my visit around their busy lives.
Living in Albany has helped me a lot with attachment. I'm the kind of person who loves deeply. The capital brings all kind of people together and meshes us in one place, forcing us to find space of our own while trying to navigate everyone else's. There are people who are good transitions, bringing you high school familiarity or distant best friend fill-ins. These friends rarely last but they're great for the occasional fist bump or Psych class buddy. There are people who are genuinely good at the heart but change as the years go on, consumed by partners and things that you can't get on board with anymore. There are people who you are cool with and social media-it-up with but they stay there, followers and hallway "hello"s. There are people you never expect to befriend because they're nothing like you, but then you discover how you listened to the same bands and had the same terrible haircuts in middle school, and you're solid after that. There are people who stop to say goodbye or drop what they're doing for you when you need them, and want to enjoy your company. They do for you what you do for them, and they love you just as deeply. Luckily and unfortunately, I've found all of these people. I'm grateful. I needed the growth, the transitions, the familiarity and the learning experiences. I've learned how to avoid negativity and to cut my losses, tying my deep love to those who both deserve and reciprocate it. I don't think I could have discovered this so totally anywhere else.
I had amazing experiences academically. I achieved. I made bonds with peers and I developed passions. I found my callings. I learned how to make my own food. I came into being "so Italian" and learned the value of working multiple jobs. I conquered long distance love. I did well in Albany.
But I'm ready to leave. I'm happy to. Perhaps not happy to leave some of the people, but as you grow older that's what everything revolves around. Leaving something, some one, somewhere at all times and going on to the next chapter. I'm excited for what Brooklyn and grad school hold. I'm excited for learning to love my boyfriend in a new way. I'm excited to reconnect with city friends who, not too long ago, left me in the same way I'm leaving now.
This wasn't the post I had planned to type, but here it is. Thank you Albany. I'm sure I'll be back; in fact, I'm certain that I will be. At least, for some times in the next year. After that I'm not sure. But for now, it's not goodbye. It's "see you later," my friend. Catch you in the "everything is so much more expensive" part of the state. ✌️
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