A Backpack and Some Sneakers

I had to take my popcorn with me to the bathroom. I’ve gotten so acostumed to going to the movies with someone that I didn’t think to wait to purchase my popcorn until after my typical pre-movie stop. Sitting in the stall I thought to myself, “this must be what dating yourself feels like.”

Free. To take popcorn in the bathroom without anyone making a comment or declaring me the most unsanitary popcorn eater, ever– at least not to my face anyway.

I went to the movies by myself for the first time in a while, and smiled at remembering what it feels like to just think about me. To be alone.

I’m on a flight to San Francisco now- just thinking about me. I packed a small Target backpack with what I determined were must haves and my best friend dropped this small town Midwesterner off at the airport.

Him: “Where’s your stuff?”

Me: “I have everything I need.”

Never in my life have I traveled anywhere with just a backpack. Not to a sleepover, no to Girl Scout camp, not to a quick trip to visit a friend down the street. Hell, I practically carry a suitcase with me to work!

I always have stuff. Too much stuff. Quietly singing Ericka Badu in my head girl you can’t hurry upppp cuz you got too much stufffff.

I’m tired of carrying it. I want to be free.

When I was 10 years old I wrote a list of life goals. Random goals, but things that my 10 year old self wanted to do while my lungs continued to open and close. One 10 year old Cierra dream was to visit San Francisco.

I’m on the plane. The eve of my 28th birthday-with that dream coming to life. God willing, these wheels are going to land in Oakland International Airport and I will be one Bart ride away from making a dream come true.

I don’t have a clue what it is about The City that’s placed this dream in my heart. I’ve mentioned in previous post that I could feel a hunger for drastic change in my life and for whatever reason, San Fran has been heavy on my heart.

So here I am. One a plane. By myself. At the movies- by myself. In a bathroom stall with popcorn (yup!) by myself. And for the first time in a long while, free.

It’s funny because this month started with me fearing the onset of being alone. I could feel that my partner in crime was experiencing a shift. That he wasn’t able to give me any more than what he was giving and I needed more.

I didn’t want to carry my popcorn in the bathroom. Or not call him in the habitual pattern of dependency I had created. That’s my jam- meet someone- decide I’m committed to it working- sacrificing sometimes on BIG non-negotiables because I’m in love with love.

I simply melt for a romantic comedy, better yet the idea of my love story becoming one. The idea of someone seeing a beauty in me so much deeper than I can understand and just being this nurturer who believes in me… Who believes in us.

I was watching my rom com fall apart and I just felt weak. Until I cried in the parking lot of my apartment for a full 5 min and quietly heard God telling me…

I know you are hurting. I know you don’t understand. Hear me now, I have more.

You have more what!? I could feel my heart asking. More pain? More disappointment? More loneliness? More self doubt?

I had to silence the snot bubbling tears long enough to hear, just More.

I have no idea what that means. I also don’t know if I’m a lunatic for seeming to hear God’s voice at the darkest hour. I do know I haven’t cried since. I know that my best friend can be my friend without all the other stuff- the junk that was weighing our friendship down and numbing me to needing to focus on me. What I need.

I know that I am 2 hours out from a 6 day adventure in my dream city, with just me.
Less than 24 hours away from my 28th birthday, and this year, I didn’t wait on anyone else to help make this birthday as important to me as birthdays are.

This year, I bought a ticket. Packed a backpack and some sneakers. Prayed to God and tearfully followed my heart to San Francisco.✌🏾️

#listeningtoZendaya #Replay



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