by Sabrina Norris-Turin
I never thought my life would be like that, that I would be getting up at dawn and setting foot into the whisper of the morning before the rest of the country awoke to the sound of blaring iPhone alarms. Imagine: I used to battle for sidewalk space and grocery cart navigating space. Now, breakfast comes from a chicken coop outside my window, and brought into a kitchen that smells like fresh thyme.
Before, I sensed the fraying rope of my life, as you sense the distant rumble of the subway beneath your feet. I was slightly aware of the absence of something, until I wasn't - and until the fraying rope was only a thin, brown thread. I wasn't whole - not really - until I obeyed the rumble and let myself be jerked away from the grasp of the city. There, another wide eyed fool would soon show up on its doorstep, groveling for its love and attention like a slobbery Labrador puppy. So, that first September morning, I stepped off the porch into the deep, mahogany earth and I cried and cried and cried. Because it was real. Because I knew I wasn't running away.
Sabrina Norris-Turin is a creative who found herself unchained after moving back to California from New York City.
She writes about sexuality and her holistic approach to financial wellness in her project the Millennial Debt Project
You can find her on instagram @kneesweakarmsspaghetti