Today I got a new pair of glasses. They’re nothing fancy – my mother didn’t even notice a difference – but my eyes certainly noticed the change in prescription. I’m currently on hour six of my headache, but my drive home was one of the clearest things I’ve experienced in months.

For those of you with perfect vision, let me explain what it’s like to put on new glasses. The moment the lenses go on, the whole world changes. Details on trees, fences, and street signs become visible. Contrast appears out of what used to be monochromatic, and every part of your visual cortex goes into panic mode.

The slew of new details start running through your nerves like confectionary chocolates, and your brain becomes Lucy and Ethel, frantically sorting and stuffing them away in every available place.

It’s exhausting, but after twenty four hours it becomes tolerable. A couple days later, you start looking forward to putting on your glasses in the morning.

Going through the process of getting new glasses made me realize that I’m currently going through a very similar process on a much larger scale. New York City is getting closer, and as it draws near I’ve started to notice thousands of tiny details regarding the move. Some are pleasant, like the realization that I’ll have access to free concerts, incredible museums, and any type of ethnic food I could hope for.

Others are painful and scary, like the realization that I will have to find a new family for Thanksgiving, or that many of my favorite relationships will quickly transform into rushed phone conversations on packed subway trains. I will no longer be able to get in my car, drive ten minutes, and arrive at the trailhead of a beautiful mountain.

Talk about a shock to the system.

Not only is New York getting closer, but my way of viewing it has changed. What started off as a challenging adventure is quickly starting to feel like the fires of refinement. My heart is aching as new details emerge and old parts of myself are left behind. I’m cleaning out every nook and cranny to make way for the onslaught of new information.

In one month, I will put on the New York City lenses for the first time. It will hurt. It will be stressful. But ultimately, it will add color, contrast, and details to my life. I may not like it at first, but I’m sure one day I will look forward to walking out my front door every morning. I just hope that day comes sooner rather than later.