I sealed it, wrapped it up, closed the sequence. Or was it the many layers of an onion or the ages shown in the slices of tree trunks?

When I left corporate life in May, I wasn’t sure where to go and what I should do? I had no real plan, though there was an imprint of one in my head asking to be articulated. I would lay in my bed for hours, mind racing through cities, jobs, and possible futures? I believe strongly in intuition, and I believed that if I kept spinning these options around in my head, one would just feel “right.” But the answers never came, and so instead of thinking myself into an answer, I just started living. Instead of asking my brain if I wanted to move to San Francisco, I got on a plane and went there.

From there, I went to Japan and Bali and strung together a long thread of last-minute one-way tickets to farflung places that spoke to me on some dimension. San Francisco, London, South Korea, Koh Phangan, Bali, and Telluride became poles of my existence, I believe eternally. I learned how to let go of New York City.

And just as I left my country during a period of what I never realized would become the transformed place it would become (I can’t even name what is going on here right now), I reentered it through the gates of San Francisco.

New Year’s came and went uneventfully, me stricken with sickness emerging periodically into that house on Guerrero Street compiling a smorgasborg of chocolates, goat cheese, rice cakes, pepperjack, and brie. I had missed cheese in a dire way while I was in Asia. In retrospect, I wonder if that may have delayed my convalescence and been the source of the swollen stomach that landed me in a gastroenterologist’s office swearing the occupation of my body by parasites and yet feeling dubious while googling “endoscopy.” I wasn’t prepared for that kind of examination.

Birthday week started the next day with my friend Jon flying in from Florida (or was it some other state/city?). He and I have somehow found ourselves (like many others I know) giving a schedule and itinerary of cities to the question, “where do you live?” rather than a single location.

The house was abuzz with three streams of activity. I was the sick housecat who might emerge periodically to eat a piece of cheese, show up for a dinner, go out for friend-dates, or do stupid things like invite 5 dates to the same club at the same time. Jon was a hurricane whirling through. His suitcase exploded in the living room. Every morning, he was on a program of 5:30am walks, vegan donuts, and acai bowls. I stayed clear of his whirling trajectory or jumped on when I felt I could keep up with the daily Barry’s Bootcamp, deli run, and energy burn-fueled goings on. Liz was writing, Tindering, or going to cross-fit and other appointments.

The three streams converged for our birthday psychic sessions, cryotherapy, mud baths, dinners, reunions, naked sauna time, and reality TV marathons.

When the news of Jon, Liz, and my 35th birthday week became known, a call from our college friend Lily popped up on my iPhone.

“You know there’s no way I’m not coming up to San Francisco. You realize this is the 15-year anniversary of our Europe trip?”

Ah yes, the famed Eurorail adventure. On my birthday, 15 years ago, we were on an overnight train heading to Austria that lost heat…and perhaps got into an accident. These details are somehow far better retained by others. Apparently, it was so cold that the accident, delay, and the loss of heat made the news networks. That morning, half of our contingent woke up and moved themselves into a heated compartment, drinking not only their tea but our tea. We awoke immiserated, shivering, and possibly crying frozen tears. That one event created a massive rift and grudge that spanned a decade and a half. Of course, Lily was the only one to remember this and she got herself on a flight up from LA for our reunion.

All I can say is that it’s amazing how much we change throughout the years and yet how nothing really changes. There is both a sense of comfort and quiet desperation in that realization.

Yesterday, I fully sealed the past by moving out of my home of the last 17 years, the entirety of my adult life. NYC. Goodbye, NYC. Hello, LA.