Intermission
"If you're here for the interview, please sign in and we'll make an announcement shortly," she said. I glanced around the busy restaurant at the other 50 people, each grasping their sheets of white paper, their life's work typed out in New Times Roman. I nervously fingered the hangnail on my index finger, rummaged through my purse as if looking for some lost item, avoided eye contact with my arch enemies, and played out in my head what I would tell them in the interview.
I would lie. Of course I would lie. No one wants to hire someone who's only going to work for them for two months. That's what I did. I lied. I faked a smile, I laughed cordially, I explained about my love for working in restaurants, about my desire to get back into it.
And when I walked out, I knew there wasn't a chance I'd even get a call back. Who was I kidding?
Resettling is unsettling. I'm in limbo, selling my personal effects to pay for rent for the next two months before Seb and I run off for our next adventure. Our next adventure will take me back to that place I once called home. A place I tried desperately to escape to get to a life larger than could be supplied. And now, here I am, returning, and not returning alone.
It's a temporary lapse, a momentary adventure, before we pick a new location and jump.
But here, now, in this space between, I've found it's difficult to try to slip back into a life I left behind only to find myself changed and everything around me is the same. It's easy to slip, to fall back into the person I was, into the space I resided, rather than into the unknown. I struggle some mornings, have to talk myself out of it, or Sebastian, in all his logical thinking snaps me out of it.
As I sit here, watching Animal sleep on an old orange chair and listen to the Somali boys downstairs laughing as they close the Halil shop, I think it would be easy to just stop. But, I know I would only be temporarily happy. I need movement. I need new ground beneath my feet. I need new adventures.
For now, I'll stop. I'll breathe. I'll celebrate. Knowing there is movement in the future.
I would lie. Of course I would lie. No one wants to hire someone who's only going to work for them for two months. That's what I did. I lied. I faked a smile, I laughed cordially, I explained about my love for working in restaurants, about my desire to get back into it.
And when I walked out, I knew there wasn't a chance I'd even get a call back. Who was I kidding?
Resettling is unsettling. I'm in limbo, selling my personal effects to pay for rent for the next two months before Seb and I run off for our next adventure. Our next adventure will take me back to that place I once called home. A place I tried desperately to escape to get to a life larger than could be supplied. And now, here I am, returning, and not returning alone.
It's a temporary lapse, a momentary adventure, before we pick a new location and jump.
But here, now, in this space between, I've found it's difficult to try to slip back into a life I left behind only to find myself changed and everything around me is the same. It's easy to slip, to fall back into the person I was, into the space I resided, rather than into the unknown. I struggle some mornings, have to talk myself out of it, or Sebastian, in all his logical thinking snaps me out of it.
As I sit here, watching Animal sleep on an old orange chair and listen to the Somali boys downstairs laughing as they close the Halil shop, I think it would be easy to just stop. But, I know I would only be temporarily happy. I need movement. I need new ground beneath my feet. I need new adventures.
For now, I'll stop. I'll breathe. I'll celebrate. Knowing there is movement in the future.
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