The World Race ended on June 29 – it’s nearly two months later and I’ve only been “home” for 19 days. I’ve been living out of a suitcase the entire time; the longest I’ve been in one place was for a week. I’ve gone from hanging out in California to a church camping trip in Ohio to family vacation in Michigan to visiting friends in Tennessee to taking my sister up to Toledo…
it’s all been lovely, but I’m ready to stay in one place for a little while. At least two weeks, hah.
My original plan was to live with my older sister and her husband in East Columbus. We had dreams of watching old movies and taking turns making dinner and basically loving life together. My sister is super cute, so her house has turquoise chairs around the dinner table and books instead of wood in the fireplace. The beautiful downtown library is just down the street, as are an array of quaint restaurants and coffee shops.
I moved the majority of my belongings over to my sister’s house in mid-July, but I’ve been staying in a spare bedroom at my parents home in the suburbs. I told my sister I would move in when I had a job and could pay the bills, but that still has yet to happen. On top of that, I found that whenever I entertained the idea of living in East Columbus I became abnormally anxious.
I recently realized that I don’t want to move to East Columbus because that would feel like starting over, and right now I’m tired of starting over. I’ve been starting over since I graduated from college more than two years ago, and I’ll be starting over sometime next spring (if not sooner.) This is a transition period in my life, and I want it to be a season of rest.
I’ve been on-the-go for so long now, and I’m craving something familiar. For me, right now, that is my parent’s house in Hilliard. It’s the Starbucks down the road, where I often see old friends from high school. It’s my bank, where over the years I’ve formed somewhat of a friendship with the one middle aged teller – he always asks what I’m up to these days. It’s the small library off Cemetary Road; I know where every book can be found. It’s the Carriage Place dollar theater. It’s the Kroger, the Target, the mall, the nearby neighborhoods – it’s not these places that bring me comfort as much as it is all the sentimental value associated with them. In high school, when there was nothing better to do on a Friday night, my friends and I would dress up in crazy costumes and go to Kroger with a camcorder. That kind of thing.
I told myself the only reason I would move in with my sister in East Columbus is if I got a job that was significantly closer to that area. Well, I’m assuming I got the YMCA job, which is only a few minutes closer to East Columbus than it is to Hilliard. So yesterday, I finally decided I was moving back in with my parents.
I moved all my belongings to my parent’s house as soon as I could (meaning, today), so I could stop living in limbo land and be settled at last.
Let me tell you how fabulous it feels to no longer live out of a suitcase and finally have a place to call home. When I was setting up my room tonight, I kept thinking about how Malcolm Gladwell says you discover more about a stranger by spending a few minutes in their room than if you had a three hour conversation with him or her. I imagined someone coming into my room and investigating – what would they find? Ballet shoes, posters of Ohio, the U.S.A and the world, pictures from summer camp, art by Andy Warhol and Normal Rockwell, fabric from India, books ranging from Harry Potter to Hemingway to Mother Teresa, old bridesmaids dresses in the closet, Sufjan Stevens in the cd player, dvds of The Office, Gilmore Girls, When Harry Met Sally and an Ellen Degeneres special, photos of old roommates and college friends, a 20-page handwritten letter from a boy, Clinique Happy perfume, lots of items with the word ‘hope’ on them, a computer with a VW Bug as the background, a pair of sunglasses shaped like a heart on the desk, twinkle lights hung all around (what’s a bedroom without twinkle lights?)…
I don’t really care what anyone else may think of my room. All I know is that after a year of moving around every three weeks, it feels wonderful to have my own little bungalow, a safe haven compiled of beautiful memories, a familiar place where I can rest and read and reflect and ready myself for whatever is next.
Also, I’m so happy to start having a consistent schedule. My plan is go to the library for a few hours each morning, work in the afternoon/evening, dance class every Wednesday night, small group every Thursday night, brunch with my sister and her husband Sunday mornings…
and then it will get all thrown off course in October when I go down to Georgia to volunteer at World Race training camp. I can’t wait.