In two months, my life will look like this.
Beaches and palm trees.
Triple berry shortcakes at Sweet Lady Jane.
Breakfasts at Huckleberry.
Italian dinners beneath giant trees.
And seeing that lovely lady behind the pizza on a regular basis.
I was 18 when I moved to the Bay Area for college and 22 when I moved to Cambridge for law school. Both times, I remember arriving in my new destination with a giant knot in my stomach, a mixture of excitement and fear. I distinctly remember driving down College Avenue in Berkeley with my parents, wondering if this place would ever become familiar to me. Within a month, it had become home.
I experienced similar feelings when my plane touched down at LAX last Friday and the captain said, “Welcome to Los Angeles.” It boggled my mind that in two months, this city would be my new home and this airport my conduit to all other places in the world. Driving to my hotel in my rental car, I was a bundle of nerves as I tried to navigate an unfamiliar city in an unfamiliar vehicle. Then “Miss Independent” came on the radio. And as cheesy as it sounds, it made me feel better. I’m moving across the country to a city that is completely new to me, where I barely know anyone, and where I won’t have school as a fallback to provide me with a social circle. Yes, it terrifies me. But you know what? I’m going to be absolutely fine. I’m going to have an amazing new life. And I am so, so excited that come January, I’ll finally be able to say, “I live in California.”