I'm sitting in a cafe 340 miles from home and it's been a long time since I've felt settled enough to write. It's funny, that my moment should come along here, about as far from anything ordinary as possible. Maybe I've started to get comfortable with things being temporary.
It's certainly been a year full of changes. A year ago I was worried about everything, afraid of all the ways in which I could fail or lose. Of course, now it's not exactly as if every worry has been put to rest, but everything is different. I'm half way through my Master's program now. I have friends who aren't in other states and actually get to see them with fair frequency. I have an internship with an awesome women who is teaching me the ropes of nonprofit resource development and fundraising. I have an opportunity to go to South Africa next spring. And I'm happily married to the man of my dreams. So far, I'm not just avoiding failure...I'm actually succeeding a little.
But back in the moment, I'm also in Durango. Navead is working here for the summer on a dam that his office designed, doing some inspection and getting the first hand construction experience (not exactly his area of interest). I'm taking my class online this term and working remotely on fundraising for the organization I'm interning with, People House. It's not the worst place ever, but we live in a hotel - I don't recommend it - and the work week is excruciatingly long for Navead. The good news is that every weekend is like a mini-vacation. Just last weekend we went to the Great Sand Dunes and camped with friends, and the weekend before we had breakfast in this gorgeous little French bakery and read Harry Potter all day (my birthday request).
In another month we'll be home, though, and it will be the opening of a new era. The last two and half years have been so up-in-the-air. I haven't had the chance to settle in, get comfortable, feel like more than a temporary resident anywhere. I haven't had the chance to feel like I was building any kind of life. Now, I'll really be at home. My home. I'll work on my career. We'll finally organize and decorate the house - or at least, feel like we can. We'll become actual members of the community and do some volunteering. We'll go back to climbing and dancing, hanging out with people, and washing our own sheets. Maybe we'll even get some plants. It feels unreal to think about that kind of stability, like it's a mirage. But I'm going to have a little piece of it, even if it doesn't last.
Until then, I'll be here in this cafe writing grants, sitting in my hotel room studying and listening to the afternoon rain, walking along Main Street browsing the same shop windows over and over again, and savoring the little adventures.
It's certainly been a year full of changes. A year ago I was worried about everything, afraid of all the ways in which I could fail or lose. Of course, now it's not exactly as if every worry has been put to rest, but everything is different. I'm half way through my Master's program now. I have friends who aren't in other states and actually get to see them with fair frequency. I have an internship with an awesome women who is teaching me the ropes of nonprofit resource development and fundraising. I have an opportunity to go to South Africa next spring. And I'm happily married to the man of my dreams. So far, I'm not just avoiding failure...I'm actually succeeding a little.
But back in the moment, I'm also in Durango. Navead is working here for the summer on a dam that his office designed, doing some inspection and getting the first hand construction experience (not exactly his area of interest). I'm taking my class online this term and working remotely on fundraising for the organization I'm interning with, People House. It's not the worst place ever, but we live in a hotel - I don't recommend it - and the work week is excruciatingly long for Navead. The good news is that every weekend is like a mini-vacation. Just last weekend we went to the Great Sand Dunes and camped with friends, and the weekend before we had breakfast in this gorgeous little French bakery and read Harry Potter all day (my birthday request).
In another month we'll be home, though, and it will be the opening of a new era. The last two and half years have been so up-in-the-air. I haven't had the chance to settle in, get comfortable, feel like more than a temporary resident anywhere. I haven't had the chance to feel like I was building any kind of life. Now, I'll really be at home. My home. I'll work on my career. We'll finally organize and decorate the house - or at least, feel like we can. We'll become actual members of the community and do some volunteering. We'll go back to climbing and dancing, hanging out with people, and washing our own sheets. Maybe we'll even get some plants. It feels unreal to think about that kind of stability, like it's a mirage. But I'm going to have a little piece of it, even if it doesn't last.
Until then, I'll be here in this cafe writing grants, sitting in my hotel room studying and listening to the afternoon rain, walking along Main Street browsing the same shop windows over and over again, and savoring the little adventures.
Comments
Hello to Navead!
I may be going to South Dakota after camp. . . if I don't, I'd love to come down the four corners and hang out. If not, I'll see you in September ;)