Auld Lang Syne

So I'm aware that I'm probably not going to get any sympathy votes by complaining about the difficulty of readjusting to my retirement-style work life in France. And frankly I don't blame you for doubting that it's a real hardship to return to a country with over 360 varieties of cheese and the highest number of guaranteed vacation days in the world. But even so, I thought I would try to explain why my return to France has been a highly surreal experience.

When I used to leave for my various studies abroad, it was always with the understanding that some sort of stable "real life," with my family or at Hope, would be waiting when my time away was over. I could go anywhere I wanted, because the metaphorical and literal anchor of my alma mater was holding part of my life in place: saving me a seat, as it were, in a community where I had long-term friendships, connections, and a continuous identity.

These past two weeks when I was home on break made me realize for the first time that that equation had changed. I was back in what was supposed to be my "real life," running around to spend as much time as possible with my immediate and extended family, my best friends from high school and college, and yet all that time I knew I was not returning to something solid and permanent; I was on vacation. And the amazing, all-too-short times that I spent with the most important people in my life were now going to become a sort of annual (if I'm lucky) treat.

Which I suppose makes what I'm doing this year in France my "real life": not just a little adventure to look for new experiences and good food, but the actual work that I'm doing and the real person I'm becoming. I had never thought about it that way. I mean, honestly, how can a year spent with the time commitments of a kindergartner seem like my real adult life? And if I do end up spending the next couple of years living abroad, how long will it be before I'm able to create a community like the ones that I've left - something that gives me a sense of being rooted and invested? I always knew that that was something I wanted eventually, maybe after a couple years of being a rolling stone. Now I think for the first time I'm examining the vertigo I'd be feeling in the meantime, that period of trying to maintain long-term relationships while still staying open to what's immediate and present.

Over vacation, my cousin told me what her college professor had once told her: at any given moment, we have an array of doors-of-opportunity open to us, but when one of those doors closes, it doesn't always make much noise. Sometimes we don't realize which doors have shut until they're already barred to us. I'd heard enough adults tell me that they regretted not taking some time away from stability and commitment to follow absurd dreams like (barely) working in France, so I knew that I wanted to give my own travel fantasies a chance. But my wonderful/spastic/confusing/amazing time with my family and friends has made me wonder if relationships are doors that can close too. Obviously there's no place in the world where I can have everyone who's important to me around me at once. But does putting more and more countries and more and more years between us mean that I'm choosing something more final than I realize? Can I miss the chance to have my closest friends stay in my life, or to see my brothers grow up? Or am I simply feeling a very normal, but unrealistic post-graduation nostalgia for college towns where everybody knows your name? Maybe I would be feeling this way no matter what I decided to do, and so I might as well be feeling it somewhere exciting.

So, in conclusion, I'm now enjoying the crazy ambiguity of having no solid idea what I'll be doing this time next year. And I'm hoping that as I get over the initial shock of realizing I've actually become an adult, the next couple weeks/months will give me some clues about whether I'm ready to start putting down at least short-term roots in work or graduate school, or whether I'm still feeling the wander lust for another year on the road. I'll keep you updated: New Zealand, South Korea, Chile, Chicago, Portland, Denver...almost everything's on the list at this point. Luckily years of watching Lost have cultivated my ability to rejoice in cluelessness.