Today I drove seven hours with my iPod turned up to full blast and a bag full of snacks before arriving in Outer Sunset, San Francisco. A light drizzle fell in short intervals on my windshield minutes before the last stretch of my trip.
This morning, I skimmed the weekly weather forecast for Orange County one last time before dragging my bags down the stairwell of my home, silently mourning that I would be exchanging mid-70s, sunny skies for perpetually chilly, damp weather. I remembered my friend, a seasoned San Franciscan, recalling how she would wear leggings under her jeans during the mornings and evenings to fend off the cold.
In my usual fashion, I consoled myself with an unusual thought: At least I won’t be exposed to the sun as much up there, which means I’ll be at less risk of getting skin cancer.
I cried waterfalls before leaving for Taiwan; and when my friends ask me what it was like to leave America, I reply with one word: traumatizing. This time, though, the distance isn’t nearly as overwhelming, my heart is a little sturdier, and my eyes merely water when my boyfriend sends me on my way.
“I’m not even going that far away!” I smirked. “See you soon!”
And with that, I put my key in the ignition and went on my way.
Hi! In case I’ve completely lost you, I’m pre-relocating to San Francisco, crashing on my friend’s couch in Outer Sunset while I search for work and housing in the city. I’m slightly delusional at the moment from sitting in a car alone for a good chunk of the day, but I’m very grateful to be here.
To make matters even better, my friend-turned-temp roommate let me take over her spare closet so that I wouldn’t have to literally live out of my suitcase. Sweet!