At first glance, 2020 has been the year of door closures. But you know what they say, “another opens.”
Plans and ideas of what life would look like have continually changed, some becoming completely irrelevant by now.

My friend Anna and I took a trip to southern Utah a few days ago to visit some parks. Finding ourselves both jobless and fed up with life indoors, we planned the trip out in a matter of days and quickly executed. It was something that wouldn’t have otherwise gone down with such haste.
Hiking and surrounded by the dramatic landscapes of earth-red cliffs at Zion Park, I asked her, “What would your life look like right now if COVID had never happened?”
I pondered the same. I would be in New York, at the same job, grinding, and probably still in my long-distance relationship. Maybe I would’ve stayed in New York for years to come. Or maybe I would’ve eventually moved back to Utah to be with my boyfriend. It was a decision I was always mulling over in the back of my mind. So much so that my existence in New York often felt threatened by a potential move. New York or Utah? I lived between two worlds.
Then COVID happened and I was laid-off overnight. This was my chance to leap into the other path — back to Utah where my partner patiently awaited me. “It’s like the world is bringing you back to me,” he said, after I excitedly told him I was returning for an undetermined amount of time. It was romantic, and finally, that nagging question of where I should live seemed to find an answer.
“I have a feeling my life is about to really change,” I predicted to my friend Jess as I packed a suitcase. It just felt so obvious at the time. Being back in Utah would bring my partner and I closer together, and I wouldn’t want to leave again. I was being led to build a permanent life out west. This was the easy path. So I thought.
Rewind to a couple weeks earlier.
I’m sitting at McCarren Park in Greenpoint after work, basking in the much-needed sunshine after a long New York winter. I’m talking to Jess on the phone and contemplating whether I should fully commit to the city or move back to Salt Lake to basically settle down and start a family. It was all being offered to me if I just returned. But New York was my dream, the place I’d longed to be in since I was a kid. And finally, I was there, in a job that I liked, finding my footing in that crazy city. “Salt Lake would be the easy choice,” I told her. “But I’m not usually an easy choice type of person.”

Maybe there never is an easy choice. Maybe each choice comes with as many blessings as it does predicaments. Maybe you think you’re choosing the easy path but really by doing so you create the pain of denying your potential. Or perhaps, all paths — temporary and shifting, eventually lead towards a deeper knowing of yourself and of life.
When I lost my job and decided to fly back to Salt Lake, I thought the universe was kindly throwing me a bone and letting me take the easy route — giving me a break from the incessant striving towards my full potential, the embodiment of New York.
Nah. It was yet another opportunity to grow. Salt Lake was not easy. COVID has not been easy. But it forced me to look at unhealed parts of myself and to bring tenderness to them. So in that respect, life was loving to me.
My relationship did not make it, and that felt like a door closing. A path no longer available.
I arrived back in the Bay Area yesterday — back at my mom’s, a square one that was always waiting for me.
Amidst all the fall outs, I can’t help but to come up with another plan, another idea of what life could be. Each redirection feels permanent as it happens, but I should know by now they never are.
This time the plan is so vague maybe it can’t really be called a plan. A hope, a desire that burns deep within my chest. The taste of freedom. Sun-drenched skin and sea-washed hair. Words and creativity.
Ties to places have come undone. The open road emerges past closed doors.
She cannot be contained.
xxGabriela






