Home for the Holidays

     One of my new year's resolutions is to be better at keeping up with this blog. Not only does it allow me to update those of you who are willing to put up with my ramblings, but writing for an audience (however limited it may be) helps me to process things in a way that very little else does.

     As most of you know, I went home over our two week Christmas break. I needed to go not only for practical reasons like medications, but also to reset my brain. My first four months in Honduras were such a roller coaster it was hard to separate myself from that experience. Going home allowed me to get away from everything related to life here: the kids, the climate, the cat-calls, the other teachers, the diet, the firecrackers local kids set off right in front of our house because they think our startled shrieks are funny. As much as I've grown to appreciate most aspects of life here (cat-calls and firecrackers being the notable exceptions) I needed some distance if I was going to continue living here.
     It worked like a charm. Two weeks at home, with my parents, sisters, best friends, real food, and snow was exactly what I needed. It was comfortable. I've been many things in Honduras, but really 100% comfortable was rarely one of them. I loved knowing where I was, where I belonged, and realizing that none of that was ever going to change. In some sense, my life in Minneapolis will always be there for me. Businesses may come and go, friends may move away, but Minneapolis will stay the same. As I've said before, I will always consider Minnesota home. I have roots there that go too deep for anywhere else to hold that distinction.

 However, I don't belong at home. For those two weeks, yes. Any longer than that? No. As much as I love the communities and groups of people that make Minnesota home, they're not what I need right now. I don't need comfort; I need challenges. I need to push myself forward, to move beyond the 18-year-old I was when I did belong in Minneapolis. The woman I've grown into needs more adventure, more uncertainty, more spontaneity.
     Having recently turned 25, people have been teasing me about having a quarter life crisis. 25 seems like such a significant number, placing me firmly in the adult world. 25 is when you're supposed to have your life figured out, to have a job you plan to continue for many years, to have a car, maybe even have a significant other with whom you're beginning to think about the rest of your lives. I don't have any of that. And that's ok. My 18-year-old self who got anxious at the mere thought of any of her plans falling apart and not knowing which direction she was headed would not have been able to say the same thing.

     So even though I don't know where I'll be a year from now, or even 7 months from now, doesn't really bother me. I'm not worried about a quarter-life crisis, because the life I've chosen to live is constant chaos: moving around the world, meeting new people, building new relationships. Crisis mode never ends; it's just a very different kind of crisis. Not everyone could live this life. Not everyone wants this kind of life. I get that. But as much as I sometimes wish otherwise, this is the life that I want. I want to find things out as I go, to take one step at a time and not worry too much about what is coming next. When I find something that makes me want to stop living this life, I will consider building another home for myself, and putting down roots somewhere new. I just haven't felt that yet and I don't think I'm ready for it.
    Maybe that's why, as the plane took off and the lights of Minneapolis disappeared behind me, my face broke into an irresistible grin and I nearly laughed out loud.