A year ago, I took up residence in a dirty, creaky old house that I'd never seen. I moved in with strangers I had only texted and casually Facebook stalked.
A year ago, I started grad school, even though that hadn't been in the plan until a few months before I walked into my first class.
I was scared then. I was scared that I was making the wrong choice, that I wasn't cut out for it, that I'd never make friends. I was scared that I'd get on the wrong train (I did) and that I'd get so lost in this unfamiliar city that I'd just have to make a gutter or alleyway or bridge my new home (I didn't).
Today was day 1 of year 2 of grad school. And I was scared. But it was a different kind of scared. I was scared that going back to school after a summer of relative relaxation would be a chore. I was scared that 18 years of school was just too many and the excitement of learning would have faded. I was scared that I don't love the thing I want to do as much as I think I love it.
But all is well, now, and I'm not scared anymore.
Because no matter how many quarter life crises and doubts I have, I'm always reminded of how much I love my program and how excited it makes me for my future.
Because I'm finally beginning to truly understand and appreciate Boston.
Because as I walked past the green line trains at the Park Street stop, I saw the little old man who plays some strange instrument that looks like a fishing rod. He was sitting on a bench, lost in his music, just like he is every time I see him.
Because I felt at home when I saw the lit up skyline as my train crossed the Charles in the dark.
Because I still live in that creaky house, but now it's filled with people I love and a slobbery, shedding, beautiful dog (who I also love), and the house is still cleaner than it was when we moved in despite all the slobber and shedding.
Because the bus driver stopped when he saw that a passenger's bike was slipping off the rack and let her get out and fix it.
Because I can get falafel delivered to my house at 2:30am if I want to. (I haven't, but I could, and maybe some day I will.)
Because a new classmate I was talking to automatically assumed I was in my second year of the program.
Because I noticed that after months and months, they finally took down the sign that's been hanging in the window of the out of business consignment shop on Eliot Street.
Because for the first time in a long time, I wanted to write something.
Because even on the hardest days (and there are hard days), this is my place, and these are my people, and I know that coming here was the right choice.
I love this! You are inspiring!
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