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The morning after I arrived home from my cross country journey, I woke up, unpacked the Nissan Xterra I had rented, and started plotting my next move.  I went to the frigid-air and took out the eggs, set them next to the stove and thought, "breakfast. breakfast is a great first move. no better way to start your day, jazz."

I walked over to the cabinet, removed the frying pan, and placed it on the stove. As I opened the refrigerator door to remove the english muffins, something else caught my eye. It glimmered under the light of the open door, nice, cold, and drawing me over to it. I looked around knowing good and well that my parents were in Hawaii and no one was watching with the exception of my dog and cat that I had just uprooted and carted across the country with me. Who were they to judge really?

Quickly rushing back to the stove, putting the pan away, and the eggs returning to their rightful spot, I pulled a Corona out of the fridge. On my way to the couch I went in to the grocery bags from the trip and pulled out the beef jerky. I put my feet up on the reclining chair, beer by my side, all the while thinking to myself, "you make it back and somehow you turn into a 19 year-old frat boy"?

And so the transformation had begun. No, not into a frat boy, into a lost girl plotting something, anything that may come next.  Unbeknownst to her, that that something would not come again so immediately, and still has not today...So, I wait. Patiently. Soon enough it shall become clear.

Just a girl, with a love of Mexican beer, and a few wrong moves, welcoming herself home and experiencing life and figuring out how to live it...or not.