About Me

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Awake

The air is so crisp today.

This morning I made the brief walk from my house to Robertino's cafe in Ballard- a venture I've made regularly from the time I was fifteen (and secretly in love with the Italian boys who worked the espresso machine), through my sophomore year of college when I was the one serving Ballardites their lattes and gelato on rainy days. Now the cafe is my home away from home; a sweet touchstone that I visit occasionally to practice my Italian with Alfonso (Roberto's elderly father who opened the cafe over twenty years ago) or catch up with long-time friends and customers.

The walk down 80th avenue has not changed much over the past fifteen years- the road still rolls over the same hills and past the same houses. Yet now the walk stirs a sense of nostalgia for the lost familiar, the gap between what has changed within me and the unchanged world. A simple road, the same destination for a cup of coffee (now lacking the milk and white chocolate) and a time's bittersweet coming of age. Things aren't so simple anymore.

This summer has been a whirlwind of transitions for myself and those I love. My friends all seem to be affected, as of late, by paramount life-changes; some extremely painful, some exhilarating, all frightening. The truth of, "things really change a lot in your twenties," is now gloweringly obvious with a new, personal twinge. I'm seeing people I care about face massive life-decisions, moves out of state, heartbreak, and even physical pain (Stephen's kidneys are mercilessly neglecting their duties lately). Turbulent events and unexpected repercussions of minor and major decisions are falling from the sky like sharp chop-sticks, jabbing people's sensitive areas, tossing around hearts and limbs. With the future stretched out before us, all we can do is close our eyes, open our arms, and embrace the unknown with blind positivity as we walk forward and possibly trip (over life, or perhaps our own stupidity) and fall on our asses.

Stephen and I are leaving for Japan from San Francisco (where we're first spending some time with his brother) on November 19th. My last day working at LA Fitness is November 5th, and the following weeks are full of trips to Spokane, early-Thanksgiving celebrations and undoubtedly tear-ridden goodbye sessions with family and friends. My life is about to undergo enormous reconstruction and I am stunned with excitement and by my total, presently un-curable naïveté. I've leaving behind everything and everyone I know for a new world. Claire in Japan... and all over Asia, with Stephen and a load to learn.

So far I've had a brief mouth-full of the Japanese language, sampled from the "ultimate" phrase-book I ordered (complete with an audio-cd), and finished an interesting book on contemporary Japanese culture. I've read all of ECC's informative documents on Japan, our employment, and am trying to watch every Bourdain episode based anywhere on the largest continent. I am in no way whatsoever prepared. All I am is blindly open and completely mind-boggled with excitement. People keep asking if I'm scared. To my own surprise, I'm not. I'm just positive.

As the summer says its swift goodbye (after a brief and somewhat non-climactic appearance,) I'll give a loving squeeze to all my familiar touchstones. The way my house looks, with its ivory paint and wooden door, in a frame of fallen leaves and rustling braches, Seattle's busy marketplaces and streets, and of course the puffy clouds drifting across Robertino's ceiling in white and pink hues. Slowly saying goodbye to friends has already proven difficult- my brief, two-day tease of a Spokane visit was bittersweet. I'm already restless to go back for an extended trip in November, pretend I'm a carefree college student, and surround myself with the friends who always infuse me with so much light and joy.

The air is definitely crisp this morning- it enlivens every pore. I've never felt so awake, so aware of what's passed and what's to to come, so sensitive to every movement. I'm ambitious as hell and in my suspenseful, prickling twenties... ready to close my eyes and make the next jump.