For ten years – the last bit of my teens and most of my twenties – I was there. There in Moscow, learning the metro system, learning a new language, learning to like borscht. There in my room, working hard at my desk, studying my brains out for my undergrad. There in Africa, embracing the sounds and the colors that were so un-like Russia, embracing the people, embracing the feeling of being on the edge of the world. There in an office, at a desk, answering phones, filing papers, working 9-5. There in a new apartment, at my desk again, studying my brains out for my graduate program.
I have been there. Traveling solo, single. Working a desk job in high heels. Doing my best to maintain grades while working a full-time job and a part-time job. I have been there. So called “free”, only responsible for myself. Working to make ends meet, pay bills, be a responsible adult in the “real world.”
Yes, I have been there. And now I am here. In this place of wifehood, motherhood. As grateful as I am for those ten years and all that I did and experienced and learned, I am even more grateful to be here now. Those ten years set the stage for the most wonderful years of my life, they made plenty sure I would not regret being here, now.
We blew “baubles” yesterday, just us. And we watched them float away on the breeze. In that moment, that was my only responsibility: to be here, now. To blow bubbles with my 17 month old. To be. Because I’ve been there and I have no regrets.