Mmmmm...vanilla chai.
As of today I've been gone 2 weeks. It seems like more, for all the places I've slept and meals I've shared with people. My friend once said that if you had a totally new experience every day of your life, time would seem as long as it did in childhood. Maybe he's right.
When I stop to think about it, my heart is torn between a longing for my friends and family, my winding Greenfield roads, and my peaceful mornings on the mountain, and pure excitement for my own mysterious future. With the encouragement of my sweet family, who've given me so much freedom to find myself and be myself, I'm not afraid to leave home. I'm just a little melancholy. Someone told me before I left, "don't worry if you're a little depressed for the first 3 weeks." Of course, I imagined my first three weeks in a new city, surrounded by strangers. In actuality, it's been the first few weeks of my trip, as I tried to muster up the energy to reconnect with old friends and be a good houseguest. Thank god for the compassion of my friends, who incorporated me into their busy lives and still gave me time to nap. I would not have gotten this far without all the naps.
I'm spending one last day in California. Tomorrow I plan on waking early. Tomorrow I head East. I'm going to find where the sun rises, for I've seen it set from the ridge above Jenn's house for as long as I can remember. I'm going East, to eat chicken and waffles and feel the fabled humidity. I'm going to watch the thundering skies and try not to think "WILDFIRE!" I'm going to have an adventure, and not to experience the drastic culture shock of a foreign nation, but for the subtle, sweet, and salty culture shock available right here at home.
Yeah, I miss Mendo. But the farther I get away from home, more I realize:
I ain't coming back in a hurry.
(smile)
ReplyDeleteI can understand that.