Marking Time

The one year anniversary of returning to the U.S. and attempting to make it home came and went with little acknowledgement. I forgot about it, and then remembered a couple of days later. It probably helped that I was at the beginning of Christmas vacation and my first real break. Should I be surprised that I've accomplished few of the goals I had in mind for the year as I was journeying across oceans and international date lines? Probably not.

It's more than one year in now, and all I can say that I know for certain is that I'll never pick a "forever" place. I thought I really wanted to belong somewhere and have a home. I thought things would be different this time, and better. I thought maybe this place could be the one that sticks. But it's not...or...it is. I'm trying not to see time spent here as time lost on the way to somewhere else. It's no adventure to live in a place and never unpack your bags.

While I was traveling solo in January, I spent some time reminiscing on the many places I've called home and the many jobs I've been lucky to have over the past ten years. Most of those jobs involved phone interviews and packing and boarding a plane and flying away to the new city/country/bombed-out backwoods (see: Shantou. What? Shantou, yeah, we're so backwoods, the airport that used to exist just shut down. Get a pedicab.)

(3 months later...) What was I writing? Clearly time is beating me this round. My January travels took me back to old haunts and new cities that now house friends from lives past. It was great to see so many people and catch up in a way that probably won't happen for a long time. I'm a lucky person to have such a great group of people to call friends, even if they're spread out around the country, and globe, and even if a house party with all of them present might be a tad strange. I'm thankful for these friends, the ones who have withstood time and distance. It gives a sense of coherence to my otherwise scattered life. Plus, they're just super cool people.