the one who turned around

Monk by the Sea, Caspar David Fredrich

Usually I am not the one who is consistent. I’m not the one who comes back, who turns around, who stays. I leave. People always leave, right?

I used to blame it all on being a military brat. I didn’t really stay somewhere long enough to grow roots. We moved. We moved often.

But then, somewhere, I became the one who moved. I moved colleges, I moved back home after graduation, I moved to Mali, I moved to Michigan. Those were all my choices. It’s been three years since college and I’ve had 5 addresses. (FYI- That’s enough of a change that I couldn’t get a Target Red Card until my check book address and my driver’s license matched.)

Yet, with all that change, here I am back at the same place I was last year. I am the dubious “returner.” The one who has done this before, the one who knows where the mail room is, and can answer questions about Bud’s hours.

It’s a whole new world.

I have no idea what to do with this. Seriously. Nothing. This isn’t who I am. I’m the new girl. That is what I can always bank on, that’s why I have friends on both coasts, and over a dozen countries.

It’s an interesting thing to have people around you who know your stories. Who can anticipate what drives you crazy, know when to leave you alone because your favorite TV show is on, and who will text you as soon as they find out when grilled cheese day is (I LOVE grilled cheese day).

I have great friends. Friends who will pick up the phone when I call after being MIA for months, friends who will house me when I come to visit, who will skype with me at weird hours due to the time difference, who send me postcards and text messages. I have some amazing people.

Still, there is something about the people you live and work with. The dinners, the dance parties, the Target trips, the long conversations about life over coffee and wine.

My Mom used to tell me--when I would get all huffy about being the new kid--that parents give their children two things: roots or wings, and just like everything else, whatever you’ve been given, you always want the other.

I was given wings. I have no fear to be far away. I trust the loyalty and love of the people I let close to me. I understand the meaning of being globally minded. I don’t live in a bubble.

Two, three, five years anywhere probably won’t give me roots. But no matter what, just this once, I’m the one standing still. And it feels weird, uncharted, and unpredictable.

PS--This is one of my favorite pieces of non-modern art. Something about the colors, the proportions...I don't know...it's like you could gaze at the unmoving sea forever.