The Epiphany

Nope, a light bulb did not go off in my head. Songs of 'Hallelujah' did not fill the air. And, no, there was no vision of a man or woman in white robes....

just an email in my inbox.

I read in the email that my room mates will not be re-signing their lease at the end of May. I wasn't shocked by that, but by the aching feeling in the pit of my stomach.

'Do I really want to leave?,' I felt like asking myself.

I began to get the bitter-sweet feeling of finally being free of the stress and anxiety, but also the realization that it is time to go. As has been the case many times in the past, I finally found a home when the time to leave had arrived. The impermanence of so many of my living situations since high-school summers should make me aware and even immune to such feelings, but instead each time hurts more than the previous.

It didn't hit me until I was on the phone with my mom.

Mom: So, you will be coming home the beginning of June?

Me: Yep...unless I...(cut short by)

Mom: Oh, that might be the best news I've heard all day.

Me: Oh, but...

Mom: We can talk about it more when you come home next weekend, but I could really use your help. I am so relieved, just hearing that you will be here to help me.

This is the first time my mom has asked anything more from me other than to try my best or make my bed. It wasn't long after when I received an email from my dad. His response was grave and stressed a large concern for the weight my mom is bearing trying to take care of my Grandmother.

To know I only have a month left here is terrifying. I don't have sudden urges to run to the Empire State Building, but instead I feel even more lost and alone. What now of the recent friends I have made? The venues I have finally begun frequenting? The salary (however small) that I have begun saving...ok, spending? And, more than anything else...no matter how selfish...What am I going home to? Is it that bad that my parents are requesting my help?

I tell myself over and over how much I've learned, experienced, developed, but I still feel like failure. Is leaving giving up? Why couldn't I make it in a city supposedly full of opportunity? And, if I have struggled and suffered so much here, will it be any better anywhere else? What if, like before, I am ignorant...and this is really bliss?

So, I will be returning south in nearly a month (excluding my planned trip there next weekend). I hope to help my parents, work part time, and hopefully exercise a lot(mostly to let off steam from living at home). My intent will be to set-up a time line, that ensures my own independence and freedom, while still living under their roof. I will more than likely attend the graduate program I have been accepted to in the fall, unless more extenuating circumstances arise.

I will miss my friends in New York, but have already heard a few of them mention possible expeditions westward, which will hopefully come true. If not, I will always have the year I lived in New York. I may not have found love, a job, or even a home, but I did find myself.