Dear Des Moines,

thank you.

I never got used to answering ‘why Des Moines?’

Most stay if it’s where they grew up, and many return to start families. But, I didn’t grow up there, or go to college there, or have a job there.

I wasn’t coming back to Iowa.

My time waiting out covid in Barbados with my then-love came to an abrupt end when two of my grandparents, a great aunt, a great uncle,
and that partnership died. No good byes.

Within a couple months, our visas expired, our leases abroad and stateside ended, and the grieving and packing and moving was just more than I could acknowledge.

So I came to Des Moines, where my people are at and have been, because I was due to live on my own for the first time

and I was grieving

and I was afraid.

and I didn’t know then how exhausted I was,

but Des Moines was the place of any I thought; as in hoped,
would be the home I’ve been looking for all this time.

Naturally, the home of my parents

and their parents and their parents

could be my home too, right?

But what do you do with a home inherited?

My mom inherited her aunt’s home,

but then it was just a house and a hassle for her…

I wanted her to keep it so I could care for that hard-earned house and love it into new life…

but it wasn’t mine.

I kept what I could and carry it carefully.

Masks, paintings, statuettes, records, magazines, the mirror.

Reminders of them, reflections of us.

I had never been confronted with grief like that.

I tried to carry on like people seem to do but I was also lost, and drowning, and it was confusing to be drowning, and I didn’t want to be seen drowning.

And in retrospect, three years later, I’m still not convinced anybody or anything could’ve really helped anyways.

I did lean on a love I am forever grateful for.

Thank you, Fi.

I got another “good” job that seemingly answered for all my corporate apprehensions – a remote contract role that would allow me to grow my own business as a marketer.

But I hadn’t yet learned the value of ‘no’ and I took every opportunity offered, until I was stable-salaried with benefits, giving too much of my time and energy and self to a job for too little in return, again.

So I quit – planless and penniless, for a second time, praying the pressure would make something precious of me.

‘Not cut out for corporate’ I said. Nothing in my sights, no wind in my sails.

No, thank you, Kilda.

I drove around to the cafes I enjoyed and asked for a job.

It was the first time I challenged myself with something genuinely new in about a decade.

Even though I had a few years on most my coworkers I often felt like one of the youngest, partially because I was new to service and they were seasoned, and no longer surprised or offended by the public, but mostly because they were younger and graduated, engaged, married, divorced, mothers, homeowners, and handling shit while I was pulling from my 401k to pull myself out of a funk.

They taught me to carry three plates and make a habit of “corner, behind, heard,” but really they taught me to separate work from life,
let go of what I thought life could/should/would look like, and move forward.

Brea, Miranda, Journey, Gaby, Mary, Kailey, Alexis, Scout, Ben, Parks, Oscar, Daniel, thank you.

Also thank you Kilda because on the day before my birthday, in the last hour of my shift, in walked exactly who I had been asking for. Divine Time T 💘

Thank you, family.