Yesterday marked a month since the news of our evacuation was delivered. It was also the day I returned to my landing place, my hometown.
In the last month, I said too many goodbyes and was kicked out of two countries (only sort of). I met young men who quit their jobs to travel for years at a time and young women studying yoga or jumping from country to country for the love of diving. I was reacquainted with friends who have steady jobs and comfortable apartments and those who refuse to give up on the creative community in South Dakota. I saw different versions of what my life could be, all while eating myself silly.
My month-long travels are over and it’s time to “figure out my life.” I put that in quotations because it’s become my catch phrase over the last few weeks along with “I have no idea what I am going to do.” This is the place and the time that I’ve reserved to worry and plan for the next step, so I suppose I should start.
I plan to write, read and listen to NPR in the room my wonderful mother redecorated for me. I plan to catch up on emails and reconnect with old friends. I plan to re-design this blog and add the 30-some entries I have from Niger. I plan to finally post pictures and videos. I plan to cook. I plan to re-trace my old running routes. I plan to watch as much “How I Met Your Mother” as possible. I plan to make charts and lists about my possible life paths.
And I plan to take each day at a time, realizing that this transition is all part of the plan and I may regret it if I don’t enjoy it.
Here, I’ve landed and I’ll realign for another take off. I have no idea how long that will take but I know that I must do it.