the tenth.

I am officially entering the mode of transition, where the goodbyes of one season begin, in the midst of hellos ushering me into the next. Yesterday was one of those mornings where all of my emotions were in super power mode, as if they had been plugged into a source of electricity, amplified beyond measuring capability, and it was lovely and also eery. That theme came from a conversation I had with my cousin, the exceptional woman that has invited me into her home, and further more, her life. She returned my call of inquiry, as I have been wondering about an official date and time to uproot myself from this beautiful Tulsa time I have been living out the past few years.

The date? "Let's just pick a date," she says on the telephone. "Okay", I reply, throwing my future into the mercy of her mind's direction - an adventurous moment on my part. "June...June...June...How about my birthday," she responds. "I like it...Sounds appropriate...And when is your birthday?" I say. "June the tenth".

And then, after a three minute phone conversation, it's settled. I will be flying into Washington DC on the tenth of June two-thousand and ten. And this, like yesterday's amplified emotions, is lovely and also eery.

A friend of a friend marveled at my situation the other day, as I recounted the facts and circumstances I will be moving into. "They live on Embassy Row, he offices out of the Watergate building, and their Sundays are spent having brunch at a French cafe in Georgetown. I live in a basement, and my Sundays are spent serving people having brunch on Sundays." "It's like you're the Fresh Prince of Bel Air!" said the friend of my friend. This made me chuckle out loud, and celebrate my chance to channel Will Smith and the potentially crazy happenings that may come from this lovely and eery decision I am making for my life.

But as I sit here at a place I consider to be like a second sort of home, feeling the breeze blow along the path of the opposite open doors, my thoughts are more consumed with what it is I am leaving behind. And though the weight of this reality is painful and heavy, and makes me feel very sad while simultaneously conjuring up feelings of apprehension, it's still not enough hold me back or keep me from going and moving, forward.