Life in a Passing Moment
What a weird week. My fiancé and I continue to plan and make steps towards our move across the world, now under a week away. Of course, it feels surreal. We’ve spent the past 10 years of our lives here in Chicago, and suddenly, it’s all coming to a close. I feel sad, of course—pre-missing the things I still at this moment have access to. But I also feel ready. We’ve lived here 10 years. That’s a long time. I’ve walked this city from one end to the next, had different jobs, different apartments, all against the backdrop of the city. I recently joked that when my fiancé and I drive around, it’s like listening to my parents: reminiscing about what used to be where, things that happened now six, seven, 10 years prior.
Right now I have the rare experience of knowing I’m living through a moment that—good or bad—will have profound effects on the rest of my life.
It’s both strange and no surprise how quickly this week has gone by. I wonder what I’ll make of it years down the road (thankfully I’ll always have my journal entries to go by!) I rarely re-read journal entries, though I've been thinking maybe I should more often; I’ve started to write monthly expectations and reflections as part of this.
Oftentimes, it seems as if it’s only after the moment has passed that you’re able to realize how significant it was. (I think now of all the frames I missed while out doing street photography.) It can be bad things, like regrets we accumulate throughout life (and hopefully release down the road), or good things—realizations later what a profound influence someone or some thing had on us. I think it was watching Lord of the Rings and all the associated BTS that made me want to go into film; a childhood trip to China to adopt my sister that showed me a completely new mode of life. But right now I have the rare experience of knowing I’m living through a moment that—good or bad—will have profound effects on the rest of my life.
So many of my conversations lately—with my fiancé; with my family, or hers; with our friends—circle around this current moment in my life. Particularly with my partner, we’re continually affirming to each other this is what we want to be doing. Taking stock of our life, our direction, sharing joys and excitement, and also our anxieties. We look to those around us, stories we've heard, as guidestones. Recently, she told me "What a privilege it is to choose!"—the shape of our futures, to select the path that lay out in front of us. To have a choice to make a change, and to take it. I’m trying to sit with that, even as time moves on.
Life, it seems to me, is full of unknown “lasts.” Maybe it’s melodramatic, but there was a day where my mom set me down and never picked me up again. (I’m thankful I can still give her a hug, though.) Not every “last” is so monumental; there are tiny lasts, too: the last time you went to a certain store or restaurant, the last time you wore a specific shirt. Little “lasts” we might not ever notice. I’m not currently thinking of this move as “forever,” but it’s impossible not to think of this week through this lens: the last time we’ll go to a grocery store in America, the last time we’ll watch a movie on our couch in this apartment.
But life is also full of unknown “firsts,” too. Your first bath in a new home. Your first time eating at a new favorite restaurant, your first time doing a new hobby; your first time meeting the love of your life.
My flight, the first time I’ve ever bought a one-way ticket, is on March 5th, 2025. On March 5th, 2024, I was working at a grocery store, stocking produce, after being laid off two years prior, and in spite of what amounted to over 1,000 job applications. My journal tells me I was frustrated with a minor setback in my Japanese lessons, feeling burnt out and stressed, that I wasn’t working hard enough, nor taking more breaks. I’d written a few short stories, but a novel still felt far out of reach. We were not yet fiancées, but simply boyfriend and girlfriend. I didn’t know where I was going, or how long it would take to get there. But I knew something had to change, and I had to do it. I couldn't have guessed how much life would change just a year later.
Not everything about this move has gone perfectly, nor will it. I still feel anxious about it, unprepared; but I think I would no matter what. That’s just life. It's sad to bring our life here in America to a close. But there's a new adventure just waiting for us to take the next step.
