I remember always going for pad thai at Thai Garden in Northampton, advertising it nonstop on Google Reviews, and why beef and the coffee tea there paired best. My 20-minute speedy descent from the top of Smith's college gates to Thai Garden was either alone, holding bread, or with an old friend I hadn't seen for a month. When you walk in, the lights are orange and golden. Little Thai dolls of gold lined the walls and intricate wall carvings of unfamiliar gods jutted outwards. All this gold made time feel like a temperature: warm and cozy and warm again.
Before I knew the difference between a RAV4 and a 4Runner, I was a pedestrian in Massachusetts, a bus and subway rider in DC, Houston, Singapore, Orange County, Austin, Martha's vineyard, Newport R.I., and a biker on Massachusettian and DC trails.
For all the speed that I have now, in my green Subaru Outback, her power astonishes me. I am all mine now. I don't rely or wait on anyone or anything to go anywhere I want. No more bus schedules. No more train schedules. No more, "are my legs gonna be too tired when I make it there, and can I even bike back?" questions.
It's now, "have I renewed my car insurance yet? Fuck, that's a lot of money."
The leaves in Marietta, Ohio fall differently. Whereas the leaves in Northampton, Massachusetts fell constantly. With wind or no wind. The leaves here, in this even smaller town, fall when you're not looking. Nothing falls when I've finally focused in.
But when I'm not looking, that's when it rains just a couple of chonky leaves, all in my peripheral vision, and gone.
I walk the same sidewalks. Over and over again. The same ascent, descent. I call different people. Yen. Elise. Ivanna. Neha. Jillian. Mumsies.
Today, after 1.5 months of being here, I saw a woman watering her garden.
She seemed so welcoming and sweet. Anyone who walks past her can't help but acknowledge her garden and her smile. A "Harris and Walz" sign on her porch. A small house full of golden lamps inside. She carried her watering bin delicately.
God, I wanted to be her one day.
As if on cue, I greeted her. "Hi there."
"Hello! It's a beautiful evening, isn't it? So lovely for a walk," she responded.
My grin grew on my face.
"It truly is. The leaves won't stop raining. And that baby over there? Oh my god, that car almost ran her over."
"We won't let that happen around here haha," she laughed.
I laughed too, turning my head to check again on said-toddler.
"I actually just moved here last month. It's truly so gorgeous," I shared. This was my moment to make a new neighborhood friend. My heart pounded in my chest easily.
I've worked the teller line and seen customers all day. Right then, talking to strangers was the easiest thing in the world.
Like breathing. Like air. I'm light and I'm falling.
And I've fallen right here.
In front of Ms. Kathleen.
"Oh my gosh, welcome to Marietta! Where are you living?"
"On Tupper street down the way." :)
"There's a wonderful miss in the green house next door then. And that blue house right there? Lovely, lovely people. And that yellow house? They're from Houston I think."
"Oh my gosh, I'm from Houston!"
And so it went on. :)
I hope to walk into her soon again, with a "Ngoc" like "knock" for me to introduce myself with all over again.
One day, I'm going to tell someone a story.
About how after I lived in college dormitories, played soccer in my childhood home, slept two nights on a bean bag in my ex's friend's room, and woke up to roosters in my mother's village, I found a very quiet place to start my life.
In the armpit of Ohio and West Virginia, I found myself pondering the trees and its leaves in Marietta. I found myself descending that same hill at the end of my walks into my apartment. This beautiful apartment. Empty in many ways, too full in other ways, but will always have flowers that I buy weekly and replenish, there, in my strawberry vase.
One day, I'll tell the story of how it was as painful as it was vibrant to start from scratch. I'll tell them how the trees looked like they were on fire at the end of October. How I was listening to this podcast about Harris getting on Fox News a couple nights ago as a black cemetery cat started purring against my leg. After I "rawr rawr"-ed it. How Neha and Elise all worried about me and told me they loved me. How I reassured my friends that I'm really good at this one thing.
I'm good at reminding myself, eventually, ~ eventually ~, that... I'm worth fighting for. Teeth and nail to the end. My life and its learnings are all worth fighting for. So that one day, I can stand on my own, and fight for those I care about.
This life of mine, it's still so mysterious. How I was in a freakin' Halloween town. How I flew home once every 1.25 months to cure the nostalgia. How I wondered if any of this sacrifice made sense. Until it did. In a hot second.
I sat in my quarterly review today with my supervisor. We're browsing future Professional Development Associate candidates. There, a profile. A gentleman who has ties to DC. "We like him," she says, "and he has family in DC. That's great!"
And that was my hint from the universe. That's it.
My heart pounded like crazy.
I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be, after all.
No more doubts.
The city of my dreams. The way Congress glows at night, like a godly basilica.
All the fireflies, rising like little lanterns among the ocean that is our National Mall. Abraham Lincoln stands firm, gripping his chair looking on at all the lawmaking and remaking. The city where Ms. Jennifer, my homestay host, told me she loved me.
Where Manal and Grace are. Where a walk in the evening can lead me into any social gathering, discussing the state of the world. The state of the universe.
Book shops, non-stop. Where I can wear all my cute dresses and feel safe.
I can imagine my heels in that city already. The way I'll never stop being better. Quicker. Smarter. My $$$ ass apartment. Sprite and wine in my mid-20s. Hugging myself warm as the cherry blossoms bloom.
The leaves will fall differently there too,
just as I have,
falling right into place.
