28,000 to 1.7 million: should i stay or should i go?

submitted by jessica kenagy
edited by sharon burns
formatted by justin orsino

I’ve lived in the Imperial Valley my whole life. More specifically, I’ve lived in Brawley my whole life. For nearly thirty years, it’s been the same families, the same events, the same streets, the same views.

And now…

In about a year and a half, I might be leaving all of it behind to move in with my boyfriend. Just thinking about it has me wondering what life will be like in a different city, let alone a different state. The plan is to move to the Phoenix area. One of the biggest differences will be the sheer number of people. To put it into perspective: Brawley has around 28,000 people. Phoenix? Over 1.7 million.

Traffic alone is going to be a huge adjustment. I barely got used to driving in the ValleyI joke that I can’t even give directions in my own hometown—and honestly, it’s not really a joke.

Then there are the little things I’ll miss that make the Valley feel like home. Like driving to the donut shop by Vons on Saturdays or Sundays to grab ham and cheese croissants for my mom and me. Or going to Johnny’s Burritos with my mom and grandma, sitting there eating in their furniture store like we always do.

that might
be about to
Change.

And what if, once I get a job over in Phoenix, I can’t get time off to come back during events I love? 

The Cattle Call. 

The Mid-Winter Fair. 

The Claddagh Club Christmas Dinner. 

And so many more.

Of course, it’s not just the places I’ll miss. It’s the people. My best friend has lived across the street from me for more than twenty years. It will absolutely suck not being able to walk across the street just to see her whenever I want.

Still, there are positives to this change. Moving to a larger city like Phoenix could open up more career opportunities. It’s a step toward independence—the kind that feels intimidating and exciting at the exact same time. Because if I’m being honest? It does make me anxious.

But I also know that if I want to feel like a real adult, at some point I have to take that step and move out. Change is uncomfortable, but sometimes it’s the only way forward.

And yet, leaving your hometown isn’t easy. There are so many places, people, and routines that make life feel safe and familiar. I know what each day looks like here. I have a rhythm.

Even little things matter. I like my bedroom. My dad built me a walk-in closet, and I’ve lived in this room since I was five or six years old. A lot of memories live in these walls.

I’m technically a younger Millennial—born in 1996—but I grew up with older siblings (1992 and 1989), so I kind of sit in between generations. And when I talk to people my age—whether they lean Millennial or Gen Z—one thing keeps coming up:

Moving out
isn’t what it
used to be.

Some people managed it right after college, only to move back home later because of rent and the cost of living. Others have multiple roommates just to make things work. Some, like me, rely on a significant other to share the financial burden.

And this is where I’ll brag about him a little.

He looks at this potential move much more positively than I do. He’s constantly reminding me, “I’m always here for you whenever you need me. You’re not alone in this anymore, and we’ll make our dreams come true together.” I know how lucky I am to have someone who wants to build a future with me and is willing to make it work.

Of course, I still worry about my ability to contribute. A lot will depend on the opportunities I can find and whether I can land a job. I’m already applying to jobs here in the Valley every week, while also watching for opportunities in Phoenix.

The reason I felt inspired to write about this is that I know I can’t be the only one feeling this way. Even though I’m almost thirty, the milestone of “moving out” feels a little timeless right now. With the cost of living and the uncertainty of the job market, many people my age are figuring things out later than previous generations did.

It’s hard sometimes to see peers who seem to be thriving and not feel a little jealous. But it’s also hard to look at the peers who are in the same boat and wonder if any of us will ever get out of it.

But maybe that is my point.

Maybe we are all just figuring things out at our own pace. Balancing where we come from with where we hope to go. And maybe leaving home doesn’t really mean…

Leaving it
Behind.

It just means carrying those memories, traditions, and people with you as you start the next chapter.

And if that next chapter happens to begin 300 miles away in Phoenix… I guess I’ll figure it out.

One street at a time.