The "Buckingham Bubble"

I finally did it.
I moved out.

Yeah, you're thinking, big deal.
Well it is one.  I'm 25, still not done as far as education, working to live...walking a fine line between struggling and comfortable.  It has been a huge step in the right direction towards being independent and self-sufficient.
Obviously I'm closer to work... my boss seems to love this.
"Oh, must be nice," he'd say in a thick Lebanese accent, "that must mean you can work all doubles next week, yes?"  Well, way for shooting myself in the foot on that one.

I could practically-- if weather permits (thank you Michigan)-- walk myself to work if I wanted.
Yes, this was partially the reason for moving to the city.



Throughout the move-- the packing up of the cars, the back-and-forth trips, here again, back again,
hauling heavy boxes up a staircase, strapping mattresses and boxsprings to the roof of a car, unpacking and organizing, putting those damn non-English instructional 3000 piece IKEA dressers together, sweating on one of the last "nice weather" days of the year-- my family was there for me.
No bitching. No asking "but do I have to"?  They called all plans off for the day in order to be there.
 
After all of the grief I have given my parents over the years-- and I mean absolute shit-- there they were, pouring out their heart and their soul along with their pockets so I could comfortably move in.  I was not an easy child to raise... for reasons unknown, too complicated to even explain, I was super insubordinate, unbelievably headstrong and defiant as I grew up. 

After all the slammed doors, "I-hate-you's", and picked arguments, the empty threats to run away as a youngster...the lost sleep as I'd rudely come home late and disturb their sleep, the horribly failed chores, having to fall on my ass to learn the hard way, that fucking swear cup I'd have to fill from when I was younger, and even the ruts of trouble I find myself in to this day.

After all the teeth I've kicked in and the gray hairs I've been responsible for...

Here they were, freely giving themselves when they didn't have to.
Maybe it only took a quarter of a century, but I see it.  I couldn't have been blessed with better parents. I love them.

Some would say they were just happy to get me the hell out of the house.
Others would explain it as unconditional love.

I sit back, and I look around at a new, not-yet-familiar surrounding that I am now calling home.
Home, a modest place in a city of snooties.  An envied address in the "009", the land of yoga pants and luxury SUVs, of Starbucks sipping, brand name rocking, physically maintained women rushing to their hair and nail appointments down the block. 

No, of course I will never let this area mold and define me. It's funny and even somewhat ironic, moving into the city whose residents I scrutinize and calculate. We'll have to see how this goes.


One foot in front of the other.

One day at a time.

This is me, learning to walk on my own.
 
-Malia Etienette

Photo Credit:
Moving Day- www.fanart.tv
Autodest Labs Moving Day- www.labs.blogs.com
Snow Storm...- www.earthobservatory.nasa.gov
When Good Kids Run Away- www.parents-are-people-too.com
Reflection on the Poem "Footprints"- www.ronedmondson.com