There are Really No Experts Up There

I return to this city, I have never thought much of as an adult.
Only the passing: I live here
or, I will never live here
or, It makes me miserable even to visit.

and here I am, worrying for my feet in their hemp slippers as I walk again on concrete.
Sitting on the subway, for hours, like everyone else.
Reading new books from the book store I stumbled in to, eating the plastic-wrapped sandwich from the nice bakery when I don't make time to pack lunch.
With gentleness, I try to shrug off the compromises of transition.
Settling takes a long time, or maybe all the time I have.

Perhaps I do not know that things will ever feel out of limbo,
but I do know I am definitely still in it until I find an apartment.
the process has been and continues to be messy.
Four of us debating, fighting, frustrating, falling apart at one another.
Where should four young white kids live? And for how much money? And in how much space? And with what sense of urgency? And under what terms?


And in what literal space?

Shut up with the discussion, lets stand in a place and say yes or no.
When shit gets messy, we all talk about it and then I feel really good.
And then it gets bad again.
How much togetherness? How much patience? How much compromise? How much self-interest?
Stretching my infinite gullies of empathy, or artificially narrowing my options?
There are definitely no experts up there to tell me how to do this.

And so, there is no reason to navel-gaze.
Rachel, You have already made this decision.
The willingness- from my gut and not my brain- feels really good, and correct.
Trusting that I only have partial control over this situation.
Entering in to our second month of hunting, I feel much more calm.
There are many more decisions left to make.