Into every single life, a little change must fall. I think I've fallen into a little change ..... 1,700 miles away from San Antonio.

I write this from my new apartment in Berkeley, Calif., where I moved to attend graduate school. My new roommate — whom I met two weeks ago — sleeps in her room down the hall. My cat plays with a twisty-tie in the living room, still scattered after our multistate journey to get here. I sit inside a new life, of my own making, having traded security for homework assignments, higher car insurance rates and a world without queso or rabid Spurs fans.

None of this involves a wedding ring, a new boyfriend or a great new paycheck. I am truly flying solo.

Two years ago, I never expected to be single right now or to pick up and leave. I believed in simple, happy endings and anticipated the slow, gentle process of settling to earth, like pretty autumn leaves.

Seasons change, and so do plans, and, well, you know the rest.

In the last several months, I've written about vibrators, threesomes, love lost and time quickly wasting away. Is a change like this the logical next step in the single woman's life? Or does it make sense because it is so completely illogical?

The questions don't stop there. Will I fall in love again? And will I ever come home again?

You'll never know what could happen if you don't take chances, said my dad. He voluntarily joined the Army and went to Vietnam at a time when plenty of others were hitching rides to Canada. He went against the wishes of his family, popular sentiment and his own trepidations about the war. And he came back a better, stronger person for it.

I'm heading for a different kind of jungle, thankfully one where I don't have to carry an automatic weapon. Though I feel blank and confused and homesick, I don't feel sad. I feel — for the first time in a very long time — excited.

Sure, I can picture myself sliding into a booth at Bar America. I smell the tortillas at Blanco Café. I think of love that unfolded in San Antonio, and I want home again.

Then I think about what could happen next ..... and I have no idea. Zilch. The file is empty. I hope to learn some new skills, meet some new people and get caught up in some adventures. But the details of my future are more elusive than ever. And I like it.

 And I'm hopeful for all of you single men and women out there who are stumbling down these same paths, grappling for what makes you tick, for what makes you happy and for what makes you so wonderfully you.

In the meantime, hasta luego, San Antonio. Even though you sometimes though drove me crazy, you still might be the love of my life.