Dear: Salt Lake City (Spring 2012),

My good friend Shelley presciently – if somewhat suspiciously – told me when I first moved back here in January that “this time it’s gonna be better than last time.” I considered it dubious because last time I moved here, in 2010, I was in perfect health and had just graduated from college; by contrast, this time I moved here following a long bout with neurological Lyme disease having just spent about nine months barely able to move or remember how to tie my shoelaces. Also my beloved grandmother had just died. How, I wondered, could this possibly be a better experience?

Oddly, strangely, and very unexpectedly, she was right. Last time I lived in Salt Lake City, in “perfect health,” I was here for almost a year and spent most of that time lonely, miserable and bitchy. No friends to speak of, no lovers at all, and a whole series of just downright ridiculous living situations that ended with me living in a hostel for over a month. When I left for Glen Canyon a little over a year ago I considered it a blessed escape from a prolonged nightmare. And then Fate, being the bastard that it is, taught me what a real prolonged nightmare feels like…

And now: despite having moved here with an IV catheter in my arm and an ongoing “where the hell am I” mindset, and in just under five months, this time it really has been cool. I’ve had a great (and successful) time in grad school, a small handful of really awesome romances, made some great new friends and reconnected with some great old ones, and even had a few sweet adventures. Granted, it hasn’t all been roses – I’m pretty sure the infection is dead but I’m still recovering from the damage it wreaked, as well as recovering from sinus surgery – but it has certainly been a lot MORE roses than last time.

So this is my final thought in the last few weeks of school and packing before spending my summer back in what I consider my real homeland: you never know what’s coming. You really, really never know what’s coming.