Wow, six months. Somehow it's been six months since I left the most familiar place in the world, the most familiar people in my life, and the two most familiar "grown ups" I know (that would be Mom & Dad).
Since then, life has been filled with a lot of really unfamiliar stuff. And while I've had moments of feeling like I'm really on to something here, I've got to admit that there is a good chunk of time on a good chunk of days when I'm still kind of wondering how this happened; how I ended up in this brand-new, unfamiliar place surrounded by lots of friendly, but still unfamiliar, faces.
Of course, I do know how it happened, it wasn't like I woke up one day in a new apartment. I weighed the options, did the calculations, prayed for wisdom; I asked my parents and close friends for their input. By complete happenstance, I even had a quiet week in the woods to ponder it. But moving can be a little bit like death - even when you know it's coming, it's still a shock.
When I first got to Redford, that shock felt a lot like those first few hours of freshman dorm life. I cried a little as my parents and friends drove away, but tried to remember that I'd survived freshman year, and I would survive this. I would survive the missed electrical appointments, and the stop and start internet hook up. I would survive the first phone call to my dad, and would even be able to hide the fact that I started to cry when I heard his voice. And I would survive the newness of a place that would hopefully start to feel like home.
In some areas I didn't just survive, but thrived. I jumped into work with both feet, and managed to keep a healthy balance with personal time - even if I didn't have a clue what to do with that time. But I feel good at my job, and I love the possibilities and flexibility of the work I do. In those first few months, I did some of the most balanced work I've ever done.
Especially compared with these last few weeks leading up to Easter, which were the most stressful since I've been here. Tight time frames and expectations around church traditions - ones I'm learning by the seat of my pants - it had me a little on edge. But as I've been reflecting on my constant exhaustion, and the number of times my friend-slash-boss asked if I was okay, I'm thinking that something else was at work in me.
And now that I've crossed that six month marker, I think I can admit it - I've been missing the "familiar" something fierce.
I miss turning left at the one way heading into downtown. I miss opening that back door and smelling three different kinds of coffee. I miss silent writing sessions with a partner, musicians who can read me by the way I take a breath, and Wednesday nights with my best friends.
But what falls into the "familiar" and "unfamiliar" camps has also sort of shifted over the past months. My friend Amy, who I didn't know existed six months ago, is now a cornerstone of my little support system. Falafel sandwiches whenever I want them have become a nice habit. And I couldn't imagine going back to my bat-infested rental in Midland. I'd even miss these bright yellow walls of my apartment that I thought I'd hate by now!
In a couple days, I'm going home to get a little dose of the familiar, and I could not be happier. But I also know that a few days after, when I head back again, I'll feel just as strongly that home is here too. I guess that's just how it is for now - home is where the heart is, even when the heart is in more than one place.
