When I told my mom I was heading to California she said, "Take lots of pictures! And promise me you'll get on your return flight!" When I rolled a too-heavy-to-carry suitcase out the apartment door, Dan said the same thing. I smiled and said, "No promises." It was a joke, but I wonder what would happen if I rolled out my blankets on a San Francisco floor and let the fallout hit quick and quiet.
It won't happen. I'll get on the flight. I'll be in every place I've promised to be. But thinking it doesn't cost something steep is naive. It costs a lot. Some wild animal within curls tight and yelps. I do what I'm expected to do and wither, like a sunflower turned away from its source.
I lived without consequences for such a long time, it's hard to believe they exist. But I know they wait for me - licking their lips like all the girls in college who looked for every opportunity to say I told you so. I'm tired of suffering for my inability to play the long game, so I'm trying to stay tethered to my life for a little longer.
This morning we walked through the rain to the farmer's market and bought a crate of strawberries from Coronado. I wore the Celine sunglasses with a leather coat and got seeds stuck in my teeth. When we left, I dragged my feet, smiling at the farmer, wondering whether to cast in my lot with his or to wait for someone more like me.