The Leaving Conundrum
I was walking through Squirrel Hill today, past the petite brick houses and stately mini-mansions, when I received a call. It was an HR representative who told me that she would like to offer me a job. I had applied to this job back in October, and after dim, interminable months of waiting and hoping, I could finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. A job that I actually wanted! In a place where I wanted to live! I should’ve been elated.
You probably know what comes next. After the initial shock of pleasure, I was not elated. It had suddenly become real that I would have to move far away from my friends, even farther away from my family, and build up my life again in an entirely new state surrounded by new people with a new schedule and new (and heavier) responsibilities. Isn’t it fun being an adult??
I have made a big move once before in my entire life, from my hometown of York to my current place of residence, my dearly beloved Pittsburgh, where I attended school and arguably became a Real Person. That move excited and terrified me, but it excited me far more than it terrified me. Ah, the romance and glamour of college in the Big City! As I face down the prospect of uprooting once again, the emotions are reversed. I am terrified. A wee bit excited, but mostly just terrified. There is very little romance or glamour to be found in the concept of working 40 hours a week at an office job.
At the same time though, I can feel myself beginning to chafe at the once-cozy confines of my life in Pittsburgh. It’s too easy to feel like I’ve been everywhere and seen everything, although that is objectively untrue. Now when I look at the college students all around me, all I see is my own time as a college student falling through my fingers too quickly for me to catch. When I look through the photo gallery in my phone, all I see is an endless stream of sunset pictures taken from the same spot I’ve been visiting ever since I was a freshman. I’m undoubtedly a creature of habit, but this is too static, even for me. As long as I remain in Pittsburgh, I will be trapped in a past in which I don’t belong anymore.
The leaving conundrum — when nostalgia brings you to cling to a place, but also makes it impossible for you to stay there any longer. Life changes, and I have changed. I will change. I am changing. Can one place hold these many, many Sarahs? Maybe. But I’m not sticking around to find out.
I know how my life would look if I stayed in Pittsburgh. I would frequent all my favorite restaurants, walk down all my favorite streets, and spend time with all my favorite people. Sure, things would change, but only inch by inch. I would feel like the same person — college kid Sarah. And honestly, even though she served well during her time, I’m tired of being her.
I can’t know what my life will look like in the future (or if I’ll even take this job, for that matter!). But isn’t that just the thing? Longing and possibility are always more potent forces than whatever random crap ends up happening in your life. Right now, I can imagine myself so many ways, and I like all the different Sarahs I could become, even though only one, if that, will become a reality. But so what? The imagining is the thing.
I will leave a piece of my heart behind in Pittsburgh. It will be painful, as conundrums always are. But I look forward to whatever possibilities might be on the other side.
