It’s 6:15 and I’m not at the beach. I’m sitting in my apartment for almost the
last night, surrounded by piles of boxes and things that should be in
boxes. I’m coming off the high of a
church retreat and the low of the reality that I’m leaving so many people I
love, again. When I look at my life, I
don’t feel like I’ve actually moved that much.
Not counting the bagillion places I lived within Blacksburg, I’ve lived
in 3 places during my almost 29 years.
It feels like I’ve said so many more goodbyes though. At the end of every summer in high school, I
had to say goodbye to the summer interns and face the reality that the summer
couldn’t last forever. I changed schools
and said goodbye to friends multiple times.
I graduated, from 3 schools now, and each time left a group of friends
to scatter to the wind. I’ve been on
multiple short and long trips ending with goodbyes and the reality that that I
knew I’d never see all of those people again all in the same place. It’s not that anyone died, but there was a
change. The group dynamic is greater
than the sum of the people.
I knew coming to Atlanta that this was most likely only for
two years. I wasn’t sure how attached
I’d get, and I was planning on doing the Peace Corps from the beginning. I’m not doubting my Peace Corps decision (at
least not yet), but I do want to take about 75 people with me, from school and
church. I’m actually not that much a fan
of the city of Atlanta itself, but I’d live here permanently in a heartbeat if
I knew I’d have this community of friends.
I can come back after Peace Corps. I’d like to.
I hope to. But not everyone will
be here. The dynamic will undoubtedly be
different. The babies will be in
preschool. More of my friends will have
phDs and will probably be working somewhere else in the country. I’ll be different, after 2 years in Africa.
And none of that is bad.
It’s just different, and it’s change.
And I kind of hate change, even though I grudgingly admit that without
it I wouldn’t be here, and none of the amazing things I’d experienced in my
life would have happened without it. But
right now I just want to grab hold of my life and cling to it for a minute, and
I feel like time is rushing on instead.
It’s my decision to leave.
I could stay and try to find a job here. I think in the long run I’d be upset with
myself for not doing Peace Corps, because at the same time I am excited about
that. And I’m thankful I made the leap
to move here from Blacksburg and go to grad school, even though I was unsure at
the time that it was the right decision.
The Pollyanna in me knows that missing people is an
indication of how blessed I am, that I have people to miss, good times to
remember, and new opportunities to look forward to. But every time something changes, I always go
through a hard transition where I’m sad that I can’t be with everyone I love at
the same time. That sounds like a lot to
ask, except that I feel like that desire is so wired in me that it’s not really
my fault. I think a part of me
periodically longs for heaven, where I will not be missing anyone.
Somehow I’ve gotten through graduation and the Last Call
Retreat without crying on anyone. I
think that’s because it hadn’t hit me at graduation that we were done, and the
tropical storm on the retreat sort of distracted me. But if you are reading this, Atlanta people,
know that you mean the world to me, and it’s really, really hard for me to
leave. Please keep in touch!
