Needless to say I support the forsythia’s war
against the dull colored houses, the beagle 
deciphering the infinitely complicated universe
at the bottom of a fence post. I should be gussying up
my resume, I should be dusting off my protestant work ethic,
not walking around the neighborhood loving the peonies
and the lilac bushes, not heading up Shamrock
and spotting Lucia coming down the train tracks.

From Valencia Robin’s “After Graduate School“

I just moved to Atlanta. I have been unpacking and getting situated, but mainly I have been walking around my neighborhood loving the honeysuckle and magnolia. I have been noticing beautiful trees and interesting public art. I have been reading the biographies posted along the Beltline. I have been drinking in every inch of my new home.

I think back to the period of time when I finished graduate school many years ago. The pressure of job and resume and work. The excitement and possibility of new opportunities. The overwhelm of not exactly knowing where I fit in — considering all the ways I want to fit in. I feel it now, too. I feel it in the way I procrastinate and ruminate. I feel it in the way I prioritize and rationalize. I even feel it in the way I have been sleeping in. The chaos of transition can be weirdly numbing. (Perhaps the move on top of a pandemic lends itself to numbing, as well.)

If my today self were to talk with my just-finished-graduate school-self, I would have a few things to say. Hear praise as loudly as you hear criticism. Allow victory to mean as much as defeat. Say thank you often. Smell all the honeysuckle and magnolia you can. You are what and who you surround yourself with. Build more. Create more. Love more.