just be: reflections on vacation

Omaha, NE @ the park

This is what happens when you have a four-hour layover, you end up writing. It was either that or my book, but that just didn’t sound as interesting (which I blame on haven woken up at 3:00am and/or the fact that my book is like 900 pages and I’m on page 60…whoops).  So here I am, armed with warm tea and a banana…

Let me just start by saying that this man I am trying not to gawk at, who works here at the O’Hare airport at a gate I’m not assigned to, this man, is fabulous. He literally greeted each person who got off at this gate and let them know that if they were staying in Chicago, there is a Blues Festival going on downtown. Where was he when I deplaned?

Anywho, I digress.

This moment marks my transition into the next week of my travels. I have left Marcy in Omaha and move to see Savoy in Charlottesville. I’m flying into DC, so Savoy and I get to jumpstart our trip together with an hour car ride, a legitimate way to catch up if I do say so myself. As excited, as I am to see Savoy, for now the visit with Marcy lingers.

This was the first time I’ve visited Marcy’s hometown. Actually, this is one of the first times Marcy and I spent anytime together as our American selves. It’s a fascinating thing seeing someone in her hometown. I have another dear friend who readily accepts offers to friends home because she says there is no better way to understand a person or where they come from than being right in the middle of it. I couldn’t agree more. And while you learn so much about a friend, I also learn more about myself.

Now, I don’t consider myself to be a selfish person, but I do seem to be talking a whole lot about myself lately. I guess that is just my little way of saying that I learn something everyday, I learn something new about my weaknesses, how I think, my patience levels, how I really like my coffee, and when given enough time, I sit and think about my life.

Pretty deep stuff for the O’Hare Airport right? It’s getting real people!

Ok, so here’s what I mean. Some quick facts about Marcy: she lives with her father, she is an only child, she was born and raised in Omaha (where her parents were born, raised, and buried and where I would bet a nice little line of Pursells did the same), she went to college about an hour from her house, her first time at the beach was in Ghana as part of the Mali evacuation, she has never been west.

Here, in a short nugget, are some things I realized about me: I should thank God a million more times in a minute that I still have my Mom; my siblings really do rule no matter how crazy they are or how much we disagree; I am really glad no one in my family smokes; moving around all the time sucked, having multiple elementary schools and middle schools is not what I wanted, but no matter, because that transformed me into this person who has funny school stories from all over, who knows and has seen some pretty cool places, and was lucky enough to have one high school, just in case Saved By the Bell really was a realistic portrayal of high school life (fyi—they lied).  I’ve been in college far away and chose to come home. My parents think it’s awesome that I have friends to visit across the country. (I don’t know when my first trip to a beach was, I’ll have to ask my mom that, but I do know that I lived in Hawaii by the age of four, so I do have about 19 years on Marcy for that one.)

I’m still not sure how I feel about being constantly surrounded by cornfields. Both cool and scenic and yet my knowledge of John Deere trackers may become embarrassingly in depth.

So, what does an organic eating, former vegan, worldly, well-educated fashionista do for 8 days in Nebraska (and some time in Iowa)?

Embrace it.

The point to all of this is that Marcy and I come from two different worlds. We got the opportunity to be friends because of this bizarre experience called Peace Corps. And now, we got to see what we are like in our natural surroundings. A bunch of things stuck—we crack each other up, we can talk for hours about nothing, we belt out country songs like we have an audience, we love the same sappy romantic comedies. We pushed each other. I take longer to get ready in the morning; I made her run with me (and then she kicked my butt), and eat her veggies. We compared stories and stared blankly at the parts of the other person’s life that was so foreign to our own.

Marcy is going to try to visit me and my life later this summer. Then the tables will turn and she’ll be the one poking through the windows of my life.

Being in Nebraska was great. Marcy was a lovely home and great people who make up her past and present.

Today, I get to shift into my own past. My own piece of paradise. Going to Charlottesville is like putting on your favorite jeans—everything is right with the world. For now, I get to continue to travel, continue to just be, just be in the moment, just be with my friends, just be with my thoughts. It’s a rare and wonderful thing.

Just be.

P.S. Since the initial writing of this post I have spent a lovely 48 hours in Charlottesville. In that time I’ve eaten two Bodo’s bagels, two slices of Christian’s pizza, been to a speakeasy, watered Savoy’s garden, gone to four photo exhibits, and spent the day following Savoy around her school. Needless to say, it’s been great. J More to come!