Spent the weekend in Philadelphia, my growing-up city, the place where I first bought cigarettes, the city where I first honed whatever street smarts a suburban New Jersey girl has picked up, the city I still consider a pole star.
I’m not nearly ready to leave Washington, but Philadelphia is always on the outer edges of my radar screen, the place where I could live, the place where I could be happy, the place where I could make a life.
But a small part of me worries it might be too close to home. I’m a shy girl and a somewhat socially lazy girl who is content to slip into the shadow of someone else and let her life be defined by other people’s priorities. If I moved back to Philadelphia, would I be willing to fight the tide that would pull me back to being just someone’s daughter and just someone’s sister? Would I put in the work that would be needed to create my own life?