No, this is the dream. She reminded herself of that truth as she unpacked her suitcase, hanging her business casual attire in a new wardrobe for the umpteenth time. It’s not like it’s the third time I’ve unpacked this month. It’s only the second time this year. And it’s exciting! Who doesn’t like a fresh start?
Once the suitcase was tucked away under Celia’s bed—it was better if it was out of sight, not reminding her of her eventual departure but giving her at least the illusion that she lived somewhere—she took off in search of food. If experience had taught her anything, it was that spending her first night in a new city at home on the couch was a recipe for longing. Whether it was longing for home, longing for something—anything—familiar, or simply questioning all her life choices that had led her to that moment, it wasn’t the way she wanted to spend her first night in Istanbul.
Instead, she walked. She walked to see the sights, she walked to find the most delicious food her nose could sniff out, and she walked away from any feelings that were not welcome on this most exciting night of her new adventure. As a last stop before returning to her apartment, she walked up and down the aisles of a grocery store, filling her cart with everything that caught her eye. While debating between two different varieties of yogurt, she ended up with both of them in her cart. After all, what could be worse than making the wrong choice?
“No, that’s ridiculous,” she muttered to herself, as she shoved one pot of yogurt back onto the refrigerated shelf. “At least in the world of yogurt, making the wrong choice isn’t that big a deal. Maybe just this once it’s okay not to try to have it all.” She rolled her eyes at her own ridiculousness, before venturing in search of fruit to put in her yogurt, and a similar debate over which one was the “right” choice, if her past behavior was an accurate predictor of her future actions. It wasn’t as if she couldn’t make a different choice on her next trip to the grocery store, either.
She sat on her couch when she returned to the new apartment that didn’t yet feel like “home,” with a small bowl of yogurt that she had cut a peach into. Staring at the wall—the remote for the TV was out of reach, and the exhaustion of the day had caught up to her—she nodded a few times. “Not bad,” she said, as she scooped another slice of peach and a dollop of rich, creamy yogurt onto her spoon. “Not bad at all.” She might be feeling the tiniest bit homesick, might even be doubting her decision to continue starting over again in new cities…but at least she could put together a damn fine snack.