the same bubble

From as far back as I can remember, I’ve lived in this same house, in the same gated community in Orange County. 98% of the first owners are the same owners today, most of which I attended school and church with through my childhood.

All my life, I have walked the same path, and I totally do not mean this metaphorically. I’ve literally ran the same path for every walk I go on my entire short life.

Out my door and past the ginormous olive tree (which was once a palm tree) that spits inedible olives to the ground yearly. Skip past the mailbox, where I fell off a Razor scooter when I was ten and fractured my wrist. Wander through the cal-de-sac and swing around the pull, an act I performed every morning in elementary school before the bus came.

Then there’s the pristine and too perfect stretch of a green golf course – three holes, in case you were curious – dipping into wild life where deer more than often graze. I sold many cookies, painted rocks, and glasses of lemonade on this money-making land. Up the “hill of death”, past the green Mustang whose owner is rather dizzy-making, and around the blind corner where I’m always fearful of being hit.

I could go on for hours.

My home and surroundings have changed very little. The bubble I live in remains the same no matter what occurs out there in the real world.

I’ll be moving out in less than two months. Moving from this suffocating suburbia to this Bay Area city, to a blazing and wonderfully-faulted city. I’ll be leaving my own large bedroom, my private bathroom and huge closet, to share a tiny studio apartment where the kitchen is smaller than my parent’s shower.

I go on an hour long walk nearly every night, once the sun has set and the temperature is no longer sweat-worthy. Tonight, as I wandered by the club house and illegally ran across the manicured golf course, I wondered where I’d find myself on my walks in Berkeley (where I’ll be armed with pepper spray – like any good girl foreign to a new place).

I’m elated to find out. As much as I appreciate the blessed life I have been given, I long for diversity and culture. I’m screaming to breathe, experience and fly away from this perfect little nest. I absolutely cannot wait to saunter through the different new streets that await me. I’m excited to find my new path each night, form new memories on every street corner.

Also, I must admit, I’m sorta curious to see how my heart and mind behave when I return back to Orange County for the summer. I wonder if i’ll be bliss, or if it’s true that you can “never come home and feel the same.”

I guess the only way to find out is to live.