86 Days…

April 4, 2023

What is it about April?

Of all the months of the year, April seems to be the most interested in interrupting my life.

Half the opportunities that have come my way over the past few Aprils I initially mistook for April Fools Jokes, they were that far out of left field.

It makes sense, I suppose. Spring. The new year finally coming to life. Change is in the air alongside the pollen.

A quick overview of Aprils past:

April 2015 - accepted an internship that effectively launched my post-grad career
April 2016 - promoted
April 2017 - promoted again,
cast as a lead in my first professional production
April 2018 - professional directing debut,
emergency understudy opportunity
April 2019 - lost my job, got a new one, moved across the country
April 2020 - drawing a blank, here… what life altering event happened in 2020?
April 2021 - ended a relationship, accepted an incredible new job
April 2022 - moved back to Richmond to start another incredible new job

Jobs, relationships, pandemics, etc. For nearly a decade, some life-altering annual asteroid has entered my atmosphere each April.

And now, in the year two thousand and twenty three, April makes herself known again.

Today, the one year anniversary of moving back to Richmond, I woke up early for an easy jog along the river, found a lucky penny, and caught a rare glimpse of an osprey enjoying its breakfast. Almost any jog I’ve taken in Richmond offers these pieces of casual magic. Small details painted gold by the sentimental significance of the rest of the day.

As I returned to my apartment, I checked my inbox only to find an email from my leasing office.

“We’ve loved having you stay at the Generic Richmond Loft Apartments, time to renew your lease! Log in to your resident portal to review your renewal options.
While we do not want to lose you as a valued resident, if you decide to leave, please be sure to provide a proper notice to vacate.
You can provide your notice by responding to this email.”

While I love my little loft apartment, I’ve promised myself that this is the year I hit the road with The Rollsbud Motel.

I know I’m not going to renew this lease. I can’t. Honestly, I’ve known that for a while and I’ve been waiting for this email. I just have to hit REPLY.

So, why are my palms sweating?

All those other Aprils felt like they happened to me. Opportunities jumped into my path seemingly from nowhere. Job offers rang into my phone from “Unknown Callers”. Lifelong crushes shot their shot. My actions made it possible to seize those opportunities, sure, and I was always free to refuse, of course, but it always felt like some outside force was at work.

This April… it’s me.

*pause for Swifties* “Hi. I’m the problem. It’s me.”

I’m the problem. I’m the force. I’m the opportunity. I’m jumping into my own path. I’m calling on myself to accept the job of a lifetime at an exciting new start-up. I’m asking me to take a chance on me.

But it’s also still my choice. Do I take the path I’m laying out before me? Do I answer my call? Do I take the chance?

The Renewal Options page on my Resident Portal shows a simple slider - a widget that lets me select the terms of my lease renewal (3 to 13 months). The position on the slider forecasts the resulting rent increase. The illusion of control.

Set phasers to stun + pet fee + proof of renters insurance…
and there’s the price tag of staying put.

Just below the bright green “RENEW” button - the only button on the page, seemingly the only correct option, the no-brainer, easy-peasy, all this could continue to be yours for the low low price of most of your reliable bi-monthly paycheck… in wee red numbers, a timer is counting down.

“This offer expires in: 86 days, 11 hours, and 46 minutes.”
In comic sans, no less. The friendliest of threats. Bless its heart.

The dramatist in me wants to say I could see the seconds ticking down on the page, but really, I could feel my pulse thrumming in my throat - a manic metronome making the deadline race towards me as the panic rises up through my body like magma. Cue the Jaws theme playing louder and louder, faster and faster!

The cursor on the page falters. My finger, poised over my laptop’s trackpad, begins to shake.

Breathe, cutie. A few deep breaths and you can pause the clock.

I picture myself, 3 months from now: I park Rollsbud at a trailhead in Acadia National Park. Leo brushes between my calves as I toss a bottle of sunscreen and a Clif bar into my day pack. It’s midmorning on a Wednesday. I’ve completed my voiceover work for the day, so I can spend my afternoon hiking. Tonight I’ll make dutch oven gumbo and read my favorite book by my campfire until the coals burn down so low I can no longer see the words on the page.

Adventure. Freedom. A different type of renewal.

I open my eyes. The green button stares back at me. Green means stay.

The bus isn’t ready.
I’m not ready.
Can I really pull this off in 86 days?

All those other Aprils, some one, some thing, some event pushed me off the cliff. This year, it’s me and me alone without so much as a light breeze at my back.

If I leap, will a net appear?

Of course it will, ya dingus. You’ve been weaving your own damn net this whole time.

Do I trust my net to hold me?

…only one way to find out.

Today, instead of renewing my lease, I bought a ticket to a music festival in Portland, ME, put a third coat of sealant on Rollsbud’s butcher block countertop, and started a new countdown timer.