Home was an odd concept for me. Of course I had a "home," a place I would go back to in my hometown, but going to college, and having a dysfunctional family life, skews your perspective of that home quite a bit. On top of that, I never felt like I "fit" into the suburban universe that is Pickerington, Ohio. There are many reasons for that, religious differences, the suburban lifestyle, the stress on family, constant comparison, etc etc; but that's a whole other conversation and just my personal experience. Some individuals crave for the life I grew up with: Friday night football games, back country roads, church on Sunday, perfect looking homes in neighborhoods that intertwine for miles, and that's totally, and completely, fair. It just was never truly me. I never felt complete. No, it wasn't until I was plopped in the valley that is Ohio University that I found pieces of myself that were just waiting to be discovered, some waiting to be dusted off. Looking back on it now, Athens, Ohio was, and is, my home; and it has now become the hardest goodbye.
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"Oh my gosh, did you see that so-and-so are engaged?" Is something I hear every time I hang out with any of my friends these days. "So what's the update on that job?" Is the other thing, guaranteed; and before you assume I'm here to criticize either of those, nah. I'm really not edgy enough to be annoyed by two people in love or my friends showing that they care about my life. My point, instead, is that hearing these things generally leads you into a place of internal discomfort — at least that's what I've noticed these past two months. Generally, after my friends and I look through the photos of the ring and the happy couple, an offhand comment is made such as, "They're so young" or "I couldn't imagine". I'm guilty as charged, and honestly couldn't imagine. But after making such a comment, I generally realize it's out of a place of discontentedness with my own life, then I also realize: I'm not alone. There's a reason why my single friends and I generally have the same reaction, as well as there's a reason why there's a tinge of jealously among my fellow jobless companions when one of us parts into the adult world of career building. This has led me to believe that post-grad life can be summed up in one word: uncomfortable. "You're working so damn hard you forgot what you like." There's nothing quite like looking down the edge of a 7,500 foot cliff to find a new lens on life. That's what happens when you're standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon. It doesn't even seem real at first because the impact is so intense. The grandeur of the Grand Canyon cannot be fully comprehended. Although I can assure that if you took one wrong step your life would indeed flash before your eyes.
The first leg of our drive was going to be the longest I had ever been in a car. Our schedule: wake up, drive, sleep, repeat. For two and a half days. Although the anxiety of car sickness from yours truly (they say you're supposed to grow out of it...well, 22 years later and that has yet to happen, jokes on me apparently) caused me to overpack on Advil, Dramamine, and a grocery bag full of munchies, I was ready to see the West and all of its glory. I imagined Missouri to look very similar to Ohio — fields of corn, rolling hills, and very small town-ish. Oklahoma wasn't hard to picture — immense flatness with tornados looming above, waiting to strike, and Texas offered a very similar image. New Mexico was just desert, nothing else, and honestly, I didn't expect Arizona to look much different. I wasn't totally wrong, but definitely not right.
As professor Mary Rogus excitedly spoke out to the crowd, and as the clapping from peers, professors, and parents rang throughout the room, I froze. My name definitely was not called, I told myself, no way.
"What are you doing?" My boyfriend said as he nudged me to stand, "Get up there!" A smile gleamed across his face. "Oh, okay," I think I said, meekly. As I stood, struck by the overwhelming applause across the room, I felt my eyes glisten, and I clenched back the urge to shed a tear. |
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