Friends it’s been too long. I falsely assumed that summer equals spontaneous writing. Time yes, motivation no. I’ve realized just how many hobbies and skill sets I’d like to refine to Kate Middleton level by summer’s end. I’m settling for the ability to play a shaky Little Lion Man on the ukulele and become an Indy coffee connoisseur.
I won’t disclose the annual summer bucket list. It’s exciting to me, but long and mundane outside of my head. (However, #6 is to learn to rap all of Lafayette’s parts in Hamilton - a lofty goal, but I’ll keep you posted).
I read somewhere yesterday that as one grows older and visits more places, home becomes relative. Is there a true “home” when my family is in Indy and my friends scattered across the nation (and the world)? Home encompasses depth now more than ever before.
Home is the past, present and hopeful future, overlapping and refusing to overlap, compiled and piling up in my mind.
Maybe the true motivation for writing this post is that I’m in the middle of organizing my closet and can’t decide whether or not to keep every graduation card or where to mount the most meaningful notes. I’m discovering the need for a good, deep clean. When the dorm room mixed with the apartment, I began to realize that maybe I don’t need to keep every syllabus.
However, there are a few non-negotiables that have taken up permanent residency in my memories and closet bins. The scripts, chocked full of stage notes and inside jokes, from each high school theater production. An oak box of dried flowers: bits of old bouquets, formal corsages and even a bridesmaid bunch. My senior worldview class readings (every last one printed); I shamelessly still reread Keller and Kierkegaard. A tattered violin case full of my most cherished notes. An odd assortment of Christmas sweaters. Oil paints, colored pencils, butcher paper and an endless assortment of photos. I’ve accepted that I’ll never own a California Closet.
Oh, but the sweet memories those little things evoke. I rarely keep every gift I receive, but I’ll almost always keep the accompanying note. I cringe each time I delete a photo, a rare occurrence judging by the 10,000+ photos that have nearly crashed my computer.
Sweeter yet, has been meeting up once again with old friends (old friends?!) from high school and catching up on a year of differing adventures. I forget that Upland is an hour from home. It’s a separate world to me. Then, my friends tell of their journeys in Alabama, California, Ohio and even overseas. Suddenly, I’m still the Midwesterner who loves to travel, but has a hint of a homebody heart.
I’ve found myself feeling like the proud mother, gushing about her child’s accomplishments. Instead of children, I’ve found joy in gushing about my friends. (That’s a blog in itself folks). They’re an incredible group of humans with an inspiring faith in Christ and never-ending love for Steak n’ Shake milkshakes (I’ve had multiple in the past three days. No regrets).
I’ve struggled on writing a reflection because I want to reflect on everything at once. About college, about home, about back road adventures, about my summer in the city, about my lack of patience (can you tell)?
I’ll get there eventually. But I do love to travel and I do love to write. If all of my journeys were crammed into one post and then finished forever, what a somber day that would be. I’m spanning out my tales and the tales of others into bursts of thought.
Photos speak stronger than my words ever will. They give the abrasive, honest commentary into my life at any given moment. While a photo may be posed, not all photos can be sugarcoated. One can still tell in the eyes and expression the true emotions behind the image.
That being said, I’ve chosen a series of images that have defined the past year in my life. They are “sweet like honeycomb” in my heart.
It’s been a grand next leg of the life adventure. Thanks for joining me for the ride!