June is almost over, and my lease is up. I have to give up my lovely Beirut apartment tomorrow and move back to my parents’ for a few months before I am thrown back into the city that has both disheartened me time and time again, and the one that has made me appreciate the small things.
I don’t know if I am overall thankful for my experience living on my own these last several months, but can say this: I have witnessed myself expand as the parameters of my self-awareness expanded, often leaving me feeling stretched thin and worn.
I cried over friendships lost, but then picked myself up with much wine and cake on apartment floors and the reliable people in my life.
I coped with the steep learning curve of work through afternoons spent with colleagues stuffing my face with brie. Those were the best.
I have been whistled at often on my walks home from work, but have felt much safer returning home well past midnight, in all my post bar-hopping glory.
I have had successes and failures, both personally and professionally, but often allowed the latter to eclipse and define the former.
I have much more that I want to say but know not how, or have not had time to process and verbalize, or want to keep sacred to myself, but I wanted to throw something out there to commemorate the end of my time at the bachelorette pad. I’m sure I will soon, perhaps in the next few days. I am ready to get back into blogging.
For now, I am thankful that I am writing this from the comfort of a rickety stool of one of my favorite Hamra bars, across the street from one of my favorite bartenders playing chess with his friend, and a bunch of grown men trying to coax a kitten into coming closer so they can pet it. And a little bird just hopped by.
Life is good, friends.