Well, things on the “home front” (I know, sorry) have continued to rock gently back and forth.  I’ve delayed my annual ordering of permanent address labels, opting instead for splitting time between Washington and New York until I make a commitment.  I carry my life in a shoulder bag, friends; a one-woman, moving, modern nomadic force.

Today I’m heading south again, watching the City’s skyscrapers fade in the rear view.  Every time I’m here, I feel I belong.  Every time I go, I feel a little like I’m leaving the nest.  It’s gray and muted – a slowly spinning scene around your own stillness – like saying goodbye to anything that’s a part of you.

Here’s the cool part, though…

In a word: opportunity.  In more than one word:  the inevitable flipside of letting one thing go means having space for another, often better or more appropriate, something else. ‘Resonate for you?

Of course, when it comes to separations of significance, sometimes it takes a while to decide on a new direction.  Sometimes you have a few false starts before one sticks.  And then again, sometimes you decide that the hesitation means you aren’t supposed to go anywhere.  So, what is one to do?  What do you do?  Wait for total clarity?  Make a pro/con list?  Intellectualize your intuition?

For me, I’ve completed each of these worthy exercises and come up with 600 good reasons to move to Washington.  Or to stay in NYC.  Or to revisit my old San Francisco home, extend my extended stay in Paris, or see why everyone’s so crazy about Austin.  Call it occupational hazard, but I can play devil’s advocate until I end up dizzy from a hellish, self-created whirlwind.

Drama aside, though, however you deal with the inescapable reality of change, I offer one inevitable outcome: at some point, after the analysis and mulling and outcome visualization, you just have to make a decision.  You just jump.  You pick one side of the fence and you hope that you’ve chosen the right one.

I choose Washington.

In all honesty, I surprise myself with this.  I adore NY.  And I reserve the right to change my mind (i.e., you may find me living in a brownstone on the Upper West Side in a year).  But I’m giving it a shot.  Some of my reasons make sense, like family and best friends being next door, a presumably better cost of living, and the energy of a new-ish administration.  Others don’t matter much at first glance, like an old outdoor trail I used to love or a new great sandwich I’ve found at a local eatery.  But those things, in fact, do matter.  When you think about making big changes, why skip the small stuff?  After all, it’s often the details that make our lives grand or, at least, a little more interesting.

Despite all of my rational reasons, in fact, a D.C.–based detail was my own personal tipping point: I was jogging near my parents’ house, I raised my head, and thought “I can see the sky.”  A layering of tissue paper clouds, a warm, radiating sun, and a simple, open blue that made you want to breathe in forever.  You don’t really see much sky in New York.

It’s not because of the extreme pollution or the extraordinary buildings, like most people would imagine.  Personally, I think it’s more because you’re so busy going forward, you just don’t really look up.

I’m looking up.