I've officially moved into my new apartment.
My books are all unpacked and organized. I decided on the exact placement of my posters, my African souvenirs, my clothes. I haven't finished organizing the kitchen yet but I'm not worried. I've got my kettle and my mugs unpacked; that's enough. I figured out a few new shortcuts to avoid traffic and one-way streets. I explored the CVS that's less than a block from my house, successfully navigated to a part of Cincinnati I'd never been to before, and deposited a check at my neighborhood bank. I filled out a form with my new address for the postal worker.
I went on a walk this morning. I woke up before nine to sunlight streaming into my room--a new feeling, since my bedroom at home faces west. When I realized it was only 75 degrees outside, I knew I just had to get out and enjoy it. So I decided to time the walk from my apartment to McMicken Hall, the building that houses the English department and where I'll be spending the majority of my time on campus.
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| McMicken Hall |
It's on Clifton Avenue, a major artery for the area around the University of Cincinnati, and one of the most recognizable buildings on campus. I live a ways down Clifton, in a neighborhood called the Clifton Gaslight District. It's full of old houses, even older trees, and the fabulous Ludlow Avenue business district, featuring one of the only indie movie theaters in Cincinnati, my favorite Indian restaurant, and, of course, Graeter's ice cream. Plus a post office, my bank, the library, and a hookah bar. Everything I need. (Just kidding, of course!)
The only problem about living in this great area is walking up the hill between my apartment and UC's West Campus. Between Ludlow and Martin Luther King Drive, you face this steady and steep incline that's over half a mile long. (Thanks, Google Maps.) Some of you might remember me complaining about Headington Hill in Oxford. (Or you know it yourself.) When I was studying abroad over there, I was too cheap to buy a bike or a bus pass; both would have cost around 100 pounds, or $175-200. So I walked everywhere for three months.
We lived in this house outside city centre, at the top of the infamous Headington Hill. To get to any of the libraries, the SCIO office, or my tutorials, I generally had to walk a minimum of forty minutes. And it was much longer going back up the hill. Obviously, it was good for my fitness level, but I HATED that hike. Every day, I would pause on the corner of Marston and Headington, take a breath, and readjust the straps of my bookbag, which was inevitably full of books and groceries and a half-gallon of milk. I dunno. It seemed like I was always carrying jugs of milk up that freaking hill.
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| Headington Hill |
It was a beast of a hill. I always thought, "maybe if I don't buy groceries this week, I can buy a bus pass!" I often stopped in the middle because I just had to take a break. I'd stand there, panting, sweat soaking through my cardigan, and some fit English person would run past me up the hill.
RUN. UP THE HILL. When I could just barely walk it. I always felt like I wasn't good enough to challenge Headington.
But the Clifton Avenue hill is longer than Headington! And once you get to the top of that hill, you only have a short relief before you have to tackle a much steeper, though shorter, hill to actually reach McMicken! Living in the northern suburbs, you forget just how hilly Cincinnati really is. Which is very.
But I was thinking today about hills, both literal and metaphorical. I was thinking that these two long, steep hills are a great metaphor for where I'm at right now. It's a hike, it's a slog, and sometimes you've got to carry all your baggage along. No matter how much you might want to drop the books and let the milk jug roll into the street. Sometimes, you give everything you've got and you're still being passed by skinny people in fancy workout clothes.
There is a point on Clifton--and on Headington Hill--when I always think: Okay, it's never going to end. I'm gonna have to stop. Maybe I'll just drive! You feel like the hill, the struggle, goes on forever. But then suddenly, almost imperceptibly, you realize that you've arrived at the top. Sometimes you focus so hard on the hill that you're distracted from the truth: you are actually doing it. Even if you're sweating or panting or swearing under your breath, all that truly matters is the fact that you've progressed up the hill. Eventually, the ground evens out and the steps come easier.
It's been a really hard year. At times, I felt like I'd never get past the moments of deep grief, but slowly the happy memories have outweighed the sad ones. At times, I felt that I'd never be secure in my choices. That I would always lie awake at night, my mind scurrying after pointless "What Ifs" and "Why Haven't I's." At times, I felt that peace and excitement and joy would never outweigh anxiety, loneliness, and frustration. At times, I felt like I'd never survive the Hill.
And yet, and yet. Here I am.
I definitely have a lot of uncertainty about the coming two years--I don't really know anyone yet, I don't know if I'll be good at teaching, I don't know if I can hack it at grad school, I don't know if I have what it takes to be a full-time scholar. I don't even know who will be my roommate next year! But I feel really good, really definite, in a way I haven't for a long time. I am happy. I am optimistic. I am ready.
After all the struggle and heartache of this past year, I looked around today and suddenly realized that the ground is pretty level. I've made it, for now. It's enough.
