Gabbi Hall
I moved to the East Coast nearly 10 years ago when I started as a freshman at Saint Michael’s College. I remember what I was wearing the day I unpacked my silver trunk in my dorm room: a tank top with a zebra on it and black leggings. It was a day of excitement and nervous jitters.
That trunk is packed in the back of my car right now along with two diplomas, my well-worn copy of Pride & Prejudice, a dozen pairs of shoes, and the guitar that I need to relearn to play along with the other trappings of millennial life. The feelings I have are similar to those from my first day at college, but the trunk no longer has the glow-in-the-dark puffy paint moon and stars I drew in the summer of 2009. Just the faint outline remains surrounded by rust and wear from a decade of use. The buckles have been bent from when I overstuffed it time and time again.
Yes, today is the day I start my adventure “home.” As I type that sentence, it feels strange on the screen. The reality is that the East Coast has become home thanks to the sheer amount of time I’ve spent here and my friends who have served as a second family. Nevertheless, I was born and raised in California, and, in the midst of a break up, it seems as good a time as any to head west. I do not know where I am moving to. I feel blessed to be in a job that allows me to work from anywhere with wifi and take my time making that decision.
For the next month, I’ll be meandering across the U.S. with planned stops in Pittsburgh, Indianapolis, Salt Lake City, Palm Springs and Reno. I’ll be visiting family and friends. The rest is up in the air—an opportunity to explore little known towns and cities that I might not see otherwise. If you’re aware of any hidden gems, let me know. I’ve done a lot of the big things like the Grand Canyon on previous cross-country trips, so I’m looking for new experiences. Offer up suggestions in the comments below.
Until next time, Boston, here goes nothing. 💕
