I'm getting just a touch impatient. There is a possibility on the horizon, and in only a few weeks I might be somewhere else. The thought is bittersweet. I have been here in my parents' house longer this time than at any point since I graduated from college, and I am, somewhat unexpectedly, enjoying it. I expected to be loopy by now from the stint back in the abode of family, but so far, only a tinge of loopy-ness. I have no friends in this town, which is a bit of a downer, but being free of every responsibility except: 1. applying for jobs, and 2. unpacking hideous chaos of boxes still tossed about in the basement, has meant that I have time to do things like go to the grocery store with my Oma. I love that when she mentions how long the little SmartCart is taking to putt-putt down the aisle, that she's lagging behind me and my long legs, I can say, truthfully, "Oh, no problem. No hurry." Because there really isn't a hurry. I have no plans, save to check my email and hope for word on the next possibility. I love that I can play two games of Scrabble against Mom and Oma (I won one today! Finally.) over tea and a lunch of spicy black bean burgers with cheese. I love that I can spend a Sunday afternoon on the lake with my family, and when the trailer breaks down, I don't have to think, "Now how am I going to get everything done before tomorrow?" I love that I can go for a long bike ride with my mom uphill and downhill and along one of the most beautiful roads that a very beautiful Michigan has to offer. I love that every day I have time to jog.
I'm ready for something new. I'm ready to be on one of those planes I see flying east across the sky in the evenings. But I also know that when the day approaches to get on that plane, there will be a part of me that wants just a little bit more Scrabble and bike-riding and jogging and having time to be with all these people I see so seldom. There will be a part of me that wishes I had made it out to Colorado to see my sister. There will be a part of me that will stay here, waiting for the next time I can make a salad and sit down to eat it with my parents, covering it with dressing off of which my dad has poured all the oil to make it healthier. I will miss this Michigan summer, when I had nothing to do but be.
And then, after a while, it will be winter here, and warm where I am, and I will gloat unmercifully.
I'm ready for something new. I'm ready to be on one of those planes I see flying east across the sky in the evenings. But I also know that when the day approaches to get on that plane, there will be a part of me that wants just a little bit more Scrabble and bike-riding and jogging and having time to be with all these people I see so seldom. There will be a part of me that wishes I had made it out to Colorado to see my sister. There will be a part of me that will stay here, waiting for the next time I can make a salad and sit down to eat it with my parents, covering it with dressing off of which my dad has poured all the oil to make it healthier. I will miss this Michigan summer, when I had nothing to do but be.
And then, after a while, it will be winter here, and warm where I am, and I will gloat unmercifully.
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