there was a night when i drank too much at the black cat and ordered fried scallops--scallops!--from yum's market at 2am

visiting DC, my home from ages 22 - 28 1/2, is sort of like visiting an ex-boyfriend, except without the bad memories of drunk sex and crappy break-up mix CDs. it is an experience that forces, like it or not, lots of "what if" thoughts, a revisiting of decisions past. mainly, my decision to leave.

what if i had taken that awesome job at gallaudet university? what if ocean conservancy had offered me more money? what if someone had sat me down and said, "don't do it!" what if i still lived a 30-minute walk from naomi and nijole and dupont and pharmacy bar? what if i had realized before reserving the u-haul that my new job would give me panic attacks? that homeownership is expensive and requires cleaning of gutters 3x/year. what if i had not followed my homing instinct, or had let myself realize, in one moment of clarity, that DC had become home, and nebraska was my bedrock, the place of my childhood, but no longer... not a home, exactly.

if i stayed: i would not have left behind some of the most wonderful friends i've ever known. i would be living downtown still, with a pool on my roof deck. i would be able to participate in the post hunt, and the cherry blossom festival, and see ozomatli at the state theater and obama on the hill. i might be farther along professionally, and paid more for my work. i would have better style, and from all the walking, a smaller frame to flaunt it on. i would go out most nights, to bars and clubs and concerts and book signings. i would relish an occasional evening at home alone. i would sit next to politicians on the metro. i would live among a democratic majority. i would hear many languages spoken on the sidewalks of my neighborhood. i would see gay men freely expressing affection in public. i would ride my bike through rock creek park on sundays, admiring azaleas taller than the elephants at the national zoo.

if i stayed: i would not have met john. i would not have adopted lucy, solomon, rufus or benny. i would not see my family regularly. i would not have had time, after quitting my first job, to spend time with my grandfather in the months leading up to his death. i would not have been here to offer my own tributary to the tidal wave of support sarah received during her leukemia battle. i would not have gotten to know the craft-making, beer-drinking nebraska peeps as anything more than friends i visited twice a year. i would not have walks around the lake with my mom, or mindless movies with my dad on weekends. i would not have spent my 30th birthday in a cabin with girls and gays, ambrosia salad and martha stewart magazines and one excellent lap dog. i would not have met john.

life, i am learning (SLOWLY) is not about black and white choices. it is easy to summon melancholy for either of these paths, and likewise joy. my moods vary like the weather in this flat fucking state... they skew whimsical or bitter, depending on how my work day unfurled, how much wine i've had to drink, if john walked the dog or slept on the couch, if my friends amuse or annoy me, if i amuse or annoy my friends, who has called me and who hasn't called, what's on TV, what's in the paper, what i'm dreaming about at night, if i'm sleeping or insomniazing, if i'm medicated or organic, what's for dinner and what's on the stereo.

it's complicated.