New City, Old Me

I’m used to having someone by my side now. I enjoy the comfort of an arm to hold, someone to share things with and tell my weirdest thoughts to. Especially when that someone is my husband who I am my total and complete self around.

The 24-year-old Jenna who lived alone in another country had no such comforts. She lugged five grocery bags from the market to her studio apartment 15 minutes away every week. [I wonder if that will be my ‘I walked 5 miles in the snow up hill to school everyday’ story.] She took the city by foot, train and bus, empowering herself with strength and independence every moment along the way.  She found comfort in being alone and that became the norm.

At first it felt strange and lonely to have the week to myself in a new city;  exploring with a loosely mapped out plan of attack each day. But as I walked around the city of Portland on my solo mission, I was reminded of the freedom. I turned any corner I wanted without saying “let’s go left” or “what’s there to our right”. I walked with ease and to the beat of my intuition. I popped into the baby store just to look around. I quickly ducked into a café for a cup of tea when it started to rain. I talked to myself and had subconscious reflections on my life. I soaked up the interesting shops, random street art and eclectic people roaming the sidewalks.

If given the option, I would choose to explore with my husband every time and share in those experiences with him.  But this little week on my own was a sweet reminder of the independence and boldness I still carry with me.

What a refreshing reminder.


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