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I signed a lease and turned over a deposit this morning. I officially have a new home, and I can’t stop looking at the pictures and grinning. Walking around my apartment building this evening I wore a bit of a cat-who-ate-the-canary smile. No more apartment living for me. At least, not for the next year. I am practically bursting with glee.

I am too tired and too happy to mind the mess that will be waiting for me in the morning, or the four days of hard work I have ahead of me. All I can think about tonight is the fact that this is all real. It is all really happening. And I have made it so.

I have now made the drive back from the desert three times, but today I looked at the brown outside my windshield differently. I saw in it possibility and I couldn’t help my smile. I was thinking about the next time I will see it, driving to my new home, a few belongings in my car and my mother sitting next to me. I will be starting out then. I will be moving toward a new life.

Today, it was easy to imagine that good things will come of all this. I don’t know in what form they will appear, but I trust today that my life is changing for the better.

I am ridiculously happy. I am proud of myself. I am optimistic, and at times, not even cautiously so, but blatantly and irrepressibly. I feel brave. I feel excited and hopeful. I feel the freedom of a great spaciousness, as though I have taken the openness of the desert sky inside myself and am expanding with it. I want to sing. To dance. To dare.

This, I think, is what living ought to feel like. I am in love with it. And (for some reason it is difficult for me to say this) with me. I am in love with me.