Happy, But Grieving

Eleven weeks ago- the day I moved to Boston, I settled into my mom’s 2-bedroom apartment in Brighton. This followed many months of visits to Beantown to check out the community and jobs in the area, something I was pulled to do by some logistical- and spiritual draw after living in New York for the last 7 years.

That day I moved into my mom’s place, I had not yet found my own apartment- this was a stopover until a potential September 1^st move-in. Since then, I’ve been blessed with a preschool job that I love- enthusiastic to prepare for my 2 and 3-year-old lessons about transportation, Rosh Hashana, and the Parsha. I’ve found a beautiful home in which to live, with kind roommates who seem to be seeking the same connections with other young professionals that I have slowly starting forming with others in Cambridge. I’m in close distance to my family, to whom I make monthly (or more frequent) Shabbat visits.

But when you say yes to one opportunity, you say no to another. And for that, I grieve. I chose to live in Boston. And I have no doubts or regrets about the move, and the life I currently live. But in saying yes to that, I said no to the short-term, yet fulfilling farm and environmental opportunities that did, and currently do, flood my inbox on a regular basis- an online farming course at Cornell, a crew position at a New York farm, a fellowship that teaches about local food systems. Three months working here, six months education there. That’s not what I want right now. I want a home, a community, long-term stability.

But- on some level- the memories of farm life- and the potential of what could have been- haunt me. They lead me to an anxious mind, a broken spirit. A period of mourning. Yet I know that despite the passion, the accomplishment, the home I’ve built in environmental communities, I’ve grown up and moved on to new life in Beantown.