And as I reach yet another in-between in my life, once I get over my strong dislike for in-betweens, I realize that change is coming soon and the things I wanted, the things I missed, take their leading roles in my every day.
And I knew this day would come, though I couldn't imagine it two years ago.
I walked out of Painter Hall one Thursday evening in late late fall having completed my last undergraduate final, and I waited for some overwhelming twitter or some dampening cognizance of loss to spring up inside of me and found only two words in my head: surreal and anticlimactic. I was ready to be done. I hadn't accepted until classes began in January while I lazed and lounged about that I really did complete all I set out to complete.
It has been nearly 22 months since the date my degree was completed, and with every day that travels by, I yearn for the rooms, the teachers, the talks, the essays, the environment of university. I miss the safety of the commitment to learn, the paradox of the structure, syllabus, this is what we will learn this year and the portal to dreams, ideas, surprises beyond what your soul could have envisaged a mere four years before. The promise that when you offer yourself to academia, the world is offered to you.
I miss being able to pour myself into literature and language and education. I have many wishes and many longings, but that world is my home. Though it won't be next year, I feel confidant about what I want. Soon, I will have my graduate degree.
But right now, he and I make the most of what we have, imbibing all the local culture we can with what little we have. Absorbing the theatre and vibrant offerings of the town for all the pleasure there is before it's soon good bye. We will be wanderers for a short while, searching for our place. Praying that, for me, that place is a university. Though we won't be homeless in the sense of dire need for shelter, we will have our time of searching for something to call our own.
I am winding down once more another temporary appointment. Though this one will not grant me a degree, it has been full of learning. I cannot imagine many opportunities that provide one with such a wide array of experiences. The general workplace, nonprofits (which are entirely unique in the general workplace), resource development, grant writing, marketing, advertising, partnerships, collaborations, management, volunteerism, conflict resolution, special events and planning, supervision, training others, policy writing, recruitment strategies and planning, orientation facilitation, board interactions and roles, child development, program planning and evaluation, community relations, and I'm out of things to list. But perhaps of equal value has been the learning experiences of my own self. I have realized capabilities and shortcomings that have been surprising as well as expected. And as all seasons so faithfully provide an education to self, autumn of this year has been no exception. As I walk daily to this end date, reflection's inevitable appearance reminds me I am as much a mystery to myself as to anyone.
I always think of Shrek trying to describe to Donkey what an ogre is like. Layers. Onions. And sometimes with myself, I feel the layers to be endless, a constant curious search for that core. Who am I? I hope and pray each passing dawn gathers me together to understand it all one day. And I hope that day doesn't come too soon.
I hope for our bodies to grasp the tune of a cyclical life. Moving and swaying with the seasons as our bodies twirl with the earth, dancing through birth, life, rest, death, and rebirth.
I hope for our souls to swell with anticipation for the newness of each quarter, though only a year gone, still seeming to be such a distant past life.
And with such anticipation for fresh and new things, I hope for the world to once again remind us of the constant that we look for without fail to tether our mangled and unpredictable days - the constant that the land will be there. The spider lilies will sprout whether they are wanted or not. The ground will harden beneath your step. The leaves will crowd your walks. The cold will seep through your hair, and the chill will slither through your hunched posture shaking and flailing your body until your chin is pushed out and your head pushed up high pulling your lungs out of your chest to inhale the crisp and clarifying air. Air, we missed you in the dampness swelter of summer.
Without a porch to place my own flowers, a room to smell my own sheets, a kitchen to store my own goods, the season will be my home. For a short while, as we forgo inhabiting four walls on which to place our own names, I will take comfort in the land. The land that was there through each first and final day of an education's seasons. The land that reminded me it was time move. The land that guided me through my learning and will still be there for the next phase.