I was walking down my block after yoga class and I knew. My bike had been locked up right in front of my house and immediately I thought I needed to lock it up in back. I took a few steps closer and felt it – I knew it was gone. Sure enough, as I approached my house it wasn’t there. It was the final sign for me. It was time to leave.
I guess I started contemplating moving a few months ago. I had wanted to change around my apartment – something wasn’t feeling right. Then I gave up on that idea and opted to just not come home, staying out late, events, drinks with friends or yoga every night etc. I didn’t notice much considering that it’s not rare for me to be hyper-involved in various activities until I spent the weekend at my parents’ house and my mother made me an offer.
“Yenni, why don’t you come home so you can save money and be with the family?” She asked. Last time she made me that offer I laughed and said, “Are you kidding? We’d kill each other!” Yet, there I sat, considering it for the first time in ten years. The stolen bike was the last straw.
I think I’m actually mature enough to move back home with my family. Odd as that sounds, I really think I had to go through some intense growth to be able to feel excited at this prospect.
I left home at 18 years old. My mother and I both couldn’t wait for me to leave the house. Between college, travels, boyfriends, jobs and adventures I managed to move 10 times in the past 10 years, finally settling in Pilsen, where I’ve lived alone for the past two and a half years.
In the decade I’ve spent away from home, I’ve howled with wolves in New Mexico, trekked the land of my ancestors, endured heartbreak, and climbed rungs of the business ladder among other amazing things that continue to fill me with a never-ending thirst for adventure and a smile. Today, I find myself in a different phase; one where I’m seeking a quiet self-exploration, but without the solitude I used to prefer.
I’ve been attempting to incorporate more honesty into my life, especially honesty with myself. As difficult as it is for me to admit: I need the support of my family now more than ever. In these past ten years, I’ve seen a headstrong, idealistic and independent teenager grow into a full grown woman that thinks it might be nice to not have to work so hard to maintain her autonomy. I want to spend time with my family. I want to save money for my future adventures. I want to come home to people that love me and care about me especially as I look forward to an arduous yoga teacher training for the next six months.
I’m really excited about moving back home. I’m looking forward to reading all those books I’ve been meaning to in the backyard shaded by trees. I can’t wait to spend nights throwing popcorn at my brother as we watch the Lord of the Rings trilogy (extended version of course) in succession. I don’t think I’ll mind the dog jumping on the bed every morning to wake me. I’m excited about all the home cooked meals my mama will make and am definitely looking to have some deep philosophical conversations with my father about life on some long walks through the forest.
I believe this stage, this layover, this stop, this step, whatever you choose to call it, is necessary, and like most opportunities that present themselves in my life I will come through this a better, more inspired, happier and more peaceful Jen.
I still, however, really really miss my bike.