I’m home. And I have been since Sunday night.
Boston sent me off with an afternoon of beautiful weather, and St. Louis greeted me with a spring rain storm and an airport full of Cardinal’s hats. My father picked me up at the airport and drove me home, and as we entered the city limits of town, I couldn’t help but comment on how every time I come back I simultaneously feel like I never left and like I’ve been away for far too long.
Perspective is a funny thing. For weeks, I’ve been hoping that coming home would give me a sudden flash of clarity about what I’m supposed to do with my life after August 10th. When I have spoken to friends in the past few months–especially people who I only really catch up with every month or so–they have kept asking for updates, and I frankly haven’t had many to give. My default answer has been that I’m waiting until I go home to see.
Slowly, I’m beginning to, but I have also realized that expecting a sudden burst of inspiration is a little bit unreasonable & unrealistic. Much of my future is still a hazy blur. In some ways, being at home has just made it all the more clear how divided my heart really is divided between this mixture of Missouri and Boston and “the other”–the possibility of the unknown adventure.
This week has been wonderful so far. I have loved catching up with family and friends and just being here; honestly, part of me never feels more at peace than when I’m driving down these winding roads, with country music on the radio and the windows rolled down. That–and things like sitting on my front porch swing–will always be home to me.
But, there is always a part of me that still wonders. As much as I love home and family, right now, after the experience of this year, home might be a little too comfortable. Maybe I’m not done with adventure yet.
Over the course of this year, I have gone from being fairly committed to grad school and a certain career path, to very uncertain about that path, to where I am now, which frankly, is still pretty darn uncertain. But I’m learning to be open again, to not rush things in my heart.
I also woke up this morning to realize that I had been dreaming (for the second night in a row, I’m fairly certain) about the kids at Casserly House and navigating the T. So. I guess it’s a good thing I’m not done in Boston yet.
I have a few more days left in Missouri before I go back to Boston to finish out this year, maybe I just need to embrace them the same way that I have tried to embrace this entire experience, which is to let them just be what they are, instead of what I feel like they should be.