When I moved to Michigan I thought all of the change was done. I was engaged and had a job and a tiny house with a garden. But life is never that easy. And I was miserable.
It took me far too long to realize it. I hurt people who didn't need to be hurt and made promises I couldn't keep. And when everything fell apart I had an overwhelming sense of guilt that seemed to crush my entire being.
But I'm not a villain. What I did was incredibly brave. It is often easier to just let life happen to us than to make the choices that will make us happy. I've finally realized that what other people think or feel about my choices doesn't mean a whole lot to me. They don't have to live my life. I do.
So I'm beginning again.
This time in Detroit proper. And I'm in love with this city.
I live in a tiny sparsely furnished flat with my cat. I can walk and bike anywhere I want to go. And the city has so many things to offer.
Exploring the labyrinth that is the main branch of the Detroit Public Library. Going in without a plan, getting completely lost in the stacks, and leaving with an armful of books I would never have planned to read.
Wandering the galleries of the DIA and being brought to tears by every painting of the moon.
Waking up early on Saturdays to get fresh produce, flowers, and coffee at Eastern Market. Having little girls there tell me I'm pretty and they like my flowers. Giving flowers to said little girls.
Late-night drunken fires and archery tournaments in backyards full of chickens and gardens.
It's lovely. It's perfect. It feels like home.