So it comes down to this: I’m moving in just over a month, and today I make the truck rental reservation. I know I can cancel the reservation if I need to, or modify it if my plans suddenly change, but this seems somehow final, like the final acceptance that yes, I am moving back home to New York after all, that I will be living with my parents perhaps indefinitely, and that the alternative I’ve been hoping on all these months just isn’t going to happen.
New York is the safest bet, the easiest move; it’s not just the path of least resistance but potentially a smart career choice. There are more jobs there for writers, editors, proofreaders, etc., and there’s a safety net of somewhere to live if I can’t afford a place of my own. Part of me thinks I’d have to be stupid not to move back to New York. So why does a bigger part of me desperately not want to do that?
I don’t know if Texas is the right choice. I don’t know if it’s even such a good choice. There are plenty of reasons why a move there might be a mistake, why I might not be able to make it work. Maybe it’ll be too hot. Maybe it’ll be too far from the people I know. Maybe I’ll find I don’t really like it there after all and just moved because I didn’t know what else to do. I don’t know what will happen. It’s just a little sad to think I won’t get the chance to make that mistake, even if it is a mistake, to find out what could happen.
And yeah, I know this really isn’t final. I know that a move back to New York doesn’t mean that I’m stuck there forever or that I have to give up on finding a job somewhere else. I know that I’ll be able to move again if the opportunity arises. I’d just really hoped — hoped against hope, I guess — that opportunity would arise a little sooner, that’s all.