I was at a wedding in the Bay when I told a fellow transplant New Yorker that after nearly two years in NY I was ready to move back home.

She was a bit tipsy and asked me candidly: “But how? Doesn’t SF remind you of your Ex? Doesn’t it haunt you? I mean—I can’t do it yet, EVERYTHING reminds me of ______.” Apparently she left behind a past love too

My response was swift and easy: “Nah. Not at all. I’m absolutely sure about this. My past isn’t preventing me from a new future back in SF.”

Personally I knew I was fine when I passed my old hood / apartment building during my June visit and I smiled. I stared at my old building with fondness and not an ounce of sadness, so yes—I’m good.

Not. Gonna. Lie. Tho…

That doesn’t mean I’m not anxious as fuck about my decision, because I am—completely. There are no givens, no plans and nothing is set. 2015 back home is filled with unknowns.

No job, no place to live, and still… no man.

But then I’m reminded of my journey in NY and I’m coming back with much more than I could have ever expected during such a short period of time. I had no clue my career would take off, no idea I’d create so many relationships with people I’ve crossed paths with (definitely including connections made back home). I had no notion of what the possibilities were and here I am completely fulfilled and more by my experience.

So although I fully admit to being anxious about my return I’m also excited as hell. NY has taught me about possibilities and I already have a head start back home.

Cheers to the unknowns, please be good to me (and more).