Today marks two years living in Seattle.
I still struggle talking about moving here—the why, the how; my impressions and experiences. The gray rainy winters are as capricious as the city’s luminous summers. The politics are as liberal and nuanced as you can believe. Social tensions are as insidious as found in any rapidly developing city. The regal mountains, the glossy ocean, the West Coast personalities—it’s all here, thousands of miles away from my roots in this phantasmagorical wonderland, sprouting a new life and watering it with change and opportunity.
But no place is without challenges. Building my life as a twenty-something is its own game, regardless of where I spend those years. The universal lessons of growing up remain the same. No city can change that.
However, a new place can provoke crucible moments, whether through laughter, heartbreak, scenic views, or stress. My time here is spent learning to manage loneliness and the ebbs and flows of people. Understanding that permanency is a fallacy but temporality is not errant. Learning how to harness fleeting momentum and ambition. Living with a scattered social network. Realizing my strengths and worth. Managing time when the supply fails to meet demand. Balancing money to ensure security. Taking care of myself in a holistic manner.
Two years later and I understand home as an active process. A place can only be home as much as I make it so. Maybe the Pacific Northwest is not my forever place. Maybe forever places don’t exist. My Midwestern roots are a stronger foundation that I merit, and it has taken nearly two years for me to acknowledge.
I can continue to fantasize about utopic futures and perfect places, but utopia is not without effort. Home is a noble cause, and it merits a valiant fight. With hard work comes redemptive reward, and I’m not taking any shortcuts. For now, cheers to my home, however permanent you may be, however many more memories you will house and emotions you may evoke; however much more time we’ll be together. Cheers to Seattle.