On a Decade in DC

October 29th marked my tenth anniversary in DC. I planned to write a grand reflection on this life-defining decade, but the pressure I put on myself made me feel too responsible, if not anxious, so in the end, it amounted to nothing. But I’m here now, arguing that a good time is better than a perfect one.

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As 2015 as it gets

The Avianca flight that would take me to a new beginning left on October 28 without me in it. Me and my mom overslept and were rebooked for the next day. I was awarded one more day to bid farewell to my old life, one that, contrary to what that delay might suggest, I was eager to leave behind.

That minor hiccup (or was it an omen?) was nothing compared to the excitement of planting roots in the place of my dreams. The joy of magical firsts - receiving the keys to my first apartment, earning my first paycheck, buying my first “girl boss” bag (a black Kate Spade) - blurred other unpleasant experiences: the first paycheck revealing a less generous amount than promised, the first nerve-wracking day at work, the first rat coming too close, the first night of sleep paralysis being completely on my own.

For years, the balance remained: the good always outweighed the bad. Probably because I had faith and optimism bigger than myself, strong enough to weather the scariest storms - the passing of my adored grandparents, the loss of a job, the departure of my best friends, the haunting impostor syndrome convincing me that soon enough, I’d fail for real.

As time went by, I became more of an adult, and less like my 22-year old version. I resent her at times, but the truth is, I miss her. The way she thought she was meant for something greater and fought for a vision, carving a path out of nothingness. The way she was guided by faith and not by sight, by wishful thinking rather than experience.

At some point, though, the negatives did outweigh the positive. I hit a rough patch, but made it through, simply because I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving DC. But I didn’t come out unscathed. Sometimes the bandages fall and expose my wounds. I can’t help but stare at them and wish they didn’t exist, so I could go back to the innocence of my 22 year old version and get a do over. Would I get it right this time? Would I walk the tree-lined streets I never cared to promenade, discover hidden neighborhood shops, sit at all the cafes all at once? Would I have overcome my insecurities, inhabited my life more fully than I did?

In the year 2015 all I saw was promise, a city waiting for me to make it mine. Today, all I see are the things I never ended up becoming.

Nostalgia has become my companion, and I feel caught in a time warp: Sometimes I wish I could skip ahead to the start of a new chapter, other times, wishing I could go back a few years and do it all again. Because if it all happened this way, with virtues and flaws, it’s because that’s the only way it could. And therefore, the best.

I don’t know where the time warp will take me. These days, I find myself living with one foot in the past, and one in the present. I try to fill my days with the places and people that made me happy then and that make me happy now, so I can be at peace when the time for farewell comes.

On October 29, 2015, my eyes filled with happy tears upon landing at Dulles airport and seeing the fall foliage in full swing. This 2025 season has unveiled a flawless autumn, with sunny skies, radiant hues of yellow, orange, and red, and trips to the Shenandoah Valley, wineries, and farmers markets. I can’t help but feel it’s a gift addressed to me, to show that this place has loved me as I’ve loved it. In the fall, but also in every season.

Here, I’ve found hurt, but last year, I also found love. I’ve lost everything, but I've also won peace. I’ve fallen, failed, and rebuilt time after time. Stayed while everyone else left. And though I’m not where I thought I’d be, and don’t yet know where I’ll end up, I can smile because my heart is well taken care of. That alone made this city worth it. That alone keeps my faith alive.

A decade later, I am thankful for what I could overcome. And for what I could never become.

DC, I don’t know how much longer I’ll be here, but thank you for having me. I’ll never truly leave, because a beloved past version of me will always dream down these streets.