Past Tense

misc, personal

The trees here have never looked so beautiful.

It still hasn’t completely sunk in that at this time tomorrow I will no longer live in Piedmont. My bedroom will not be the room I’m sitting in right now but a closet somewhere in Manhattan–my bed will no longer my bed. From now on I will always be a guest in my own home.

As much as I railed against growing up in Pleasantville since I first realized that this place is not like most places, I am (finally) coming to appreciate how lucky I am to have grown up where I did. Sheltered–yes, but I sometimes a little shelter can be a good thing. Privileged, and I understand now that privilege is exactly that: not a reason to complain about being isolated from the real world or getting soft and spoiled, but a quality of life for which I should be genuinely grateful.

And the trees. This is a gorgeous city. My lasting memory of Piedmont will be of walking up the hill from the bus stop watching the sycamores burn green and gold as the sun sinks in to the bay. I will be higher up than the trees next year, looking out over a busy street rather than the green lawn I complained about so much. A beautiful view as well, but not the same.

I have been resolutely un-nostalgic about leaving this place, but that broke down at about 3:00 this morning as I was getting ready to make my final goodbyes. A little regret actually feels good; as I zip the last of my bags I’m finally able to admit to myself that I really love it here.