You can find me in the corner of the room laugh-crying because I can’t believe my time in this city has expired.
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My final adieu has been a long time coming. But God gave me three bonus months so my goodbye wasn’t rushed. For too much of my time here I was simply going through the motions, just living each day not able to see the shine of this time in my life.
Never again will I be 25 years young, living with two incredibly generous friends, have such easy access to the city of Boston, be comfortable in a meaningful job, work alongside many people I call my friends, and be in proximity to an entire community I’ve built from nothing.
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I’ve done my best to slow moments down, committing them to memory in a way I hope I’ll never soon forget. I’ve breathed in feelings, emotions, and truly relished every inch of this space while I was in it:
Like the time I led my last Rosary at work. I held it (mostly) together while praying but couldn't keep the huge cartoon tears from falling as I exited the chapel, blessing myself with holy water. I was met by the humble, gentle Father Pinto who embraced me with one look and took such care in grabbing my hands, literally wiping tears from my cheeks and saying, “We’re going to miss you, my daughter.” I want to always remember the feeling of being surrounded by holy, holy people.
Sitting with Katie and Megan on our apartment floor, criss-cross-applesauce around our coffee table eating a simple but delicious meal (because our dining room table was packed away) drinking wine and talking about life until our legs had fallen asleep. I want to always remember the warmth of friendship and spilling our hearts over food.
Or the time I walked over a mile arm in arm with Joe on a perfect spring night after one and a half too many drinks. Ending up at the McMenamy’s house where Anne had english muffins, tea and ice cream to sober us up and Dennis drew out both light and meaningful conversation with ease. I want to always remember the feeling of safety, hospitality, and home amongst those three people.
Sharing final moments over a picnic with two cherished friends who’ve been my biggest supporters as we watched the sun set on Boston. How easily we laughed at our mishaps and expressed our dreams and hopes about what’s to come for each of our different paths. I want to always remember the ease of being with people who meet me where I am, exactly as I am, day in and out, showering me with love (and a little bit of sass).
Life is too short not to notice the little things that make living it so much richer.
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But it hasn’t always been easy.
In this transition I have been tested. Tested greatly in faith, love, friendship, heart. I’ve felt everything so deeply, and change - especially to this scale - is difficult for me to grapple with (which is ironic because I’m the one always throwing myself into it).
I’ve teased that I’m mourning the formative years I’ve grown up in Boston. Even though I joke, I truly feel like I’m losing a piece of myself.
I wish I knew why it’s all been so difficult. It’s not that I haven’t had support (my New England family definitely stepped up their game to bid me farewell) or that I regret my decision (I know to my core I’ve been called to Honduras).
So why have I clocked too many late nights creating lists and scenarios that only corner me in despair? Why do I continue to find myself losing it in everyday situations, the littlest things setting me off? Why am I convinced that I’m in this alone?
Maybe it’s fear. Maybe it’s self-sabotage (or self-righteousness). Maybe it’s Boston’s final lesson for me that I won’t understand until I’m in the humidity of Honduras or even 10 years down the road.
But what I do know is that the hurt means my time here was a major step in the direction of who God is molding me to become.
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So here I am on my last night in Boston, a little weepy but overwhelmed by gratitude.
Cheers to the city and people who’ve made my years 22 through 25 rich, nourishing, safe, full, and ultimately exactly what God intended.
I leave thee to nurture a new, eager spirit the same way you did mine. Take care of her heart, teach her to love boldly, and live her truth.
You’re the only big city I’ll ever love and will always be a special part of me.
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