When I was growing up my favorite time of year was the holiday season between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Every year I would spend Thanksgiving break with my cousins in New Jersey and New York City. Since I only got to see them a few times a year I always looked forward to the trip; watching the parade together, cramming our entire family into my cousins NYU dorm room, and of course taking a trip to Macy’s to see the beautiful Christmas window displays. December was then filled with holiday parties and on Christmas Eve my parents always had one of their own. My mother would spend days preparing for it, cooking enough food for about double the amount of guests. Leftovers were always our Christmas dinner tradition.
As everyone got older though, things inevitably changed. Last Thanksgiving I didn’t get to see my cousins at all, and this year will be the same. And now that my parents have moved to the Midwest they won’t be having their Christmas Eve party either.
I’m sad that things have changed of course, but I guess that’s expected as you get older. The holidays will never be quite as good as they were when you were younger. I only wish that I had appreciated it all more then.
Last year during my final two semesters of college I was fortunate enough to have a gallery internship that I absolutely loved. While almost everyone around me had their career paths planned out since freshman year, I never could seem to make a choice about my future that lasted more than a few months. But this internship made me realize that working in galleries or museums was something I could actually see myself doing.
I remember around the time of graduation my boss saying to me, “Have you ever worked in a restaurant before?” When I told her no she responded, “Well you might want to start, because if you want to work in the arts you are going to need another job too.”
I thanked her for the advice but thought to myself how wrong she was. I was going to be a college graduate with a year’s worth of gallery experience! I was certain that I would land a good job right away.
Now here I am, seven months later, working in a restaurant to help pay for graduate school next year.
Tickets to see the Arctic Monkeys in February officially purchased!
I had it all planned out. I was coming back. After everything, I was still going to come back to you.
But as time went on everything changed. I started to want different things. I made new plans. Plans that were focused on what I needed to do for myself and my own happiness. Plans that didn’t involve you.
And so there we were, in that bar we used to go to, after six months had passed without seeing each other. Nothing had changed, yet everything had. I told you about these new plans of mine, and you were happy for me.
We’re not the same people we used to be. I know that I don’t love you the way I did a year ago, or even the way I did six months ago. I just needed to see us together again to believe it.
I just arrived at Philadelphia International Airport and I’m thrilled to be back on the east coast for a few days.