November

Hey there, November.

I can't believe there's two months left of this year. 2018's been an interesting one.

I've been listening to Christmas music all week, but I'm glad at least now it's at least a little more acceptable than before.

The cold is coming. It's supposed to snow on Sunday, the fourth. This time I think it might actually be true. It's been bitter cold and I dread winter more and more each time the temperature drops even one degree.

We hope and pray I don't drop out of school this month.

I get to go home this month. I get to see my babies, my family. I get to stuff my face with turkey and stuffing and pie. And I get to escape the cold for a little bit.

I've been pretty homesick, November. It's hard to imagine going home to not my home. I keep envisioning the holidays in my beloved childhood home, and then I'm suddenly hit with the realization that that's not home anymore. But really I just want to see my family.

I don't really know what to expect from you, November. Mostly a lot of Christmas spirit: music, Hallmark movies, food. And probably some stress.

October, pt. ii

October,

You brought the first snow, but not on that first Tuesday like we thought. It was yesterday, your last day. Luckily it didn't stick. The first hint of winter.

Your weather was actually wonderful. 50s, 60s. I've been holding on to every bit of this fall weather before the hell that is Idaho's winter hits us.

You brought a lot of hardships, October. Some mid-life crises... at nineteen. (I'm writing this in English 301, so that should tell you something about how this semester is going.)

But, October, you also brought a lot of fun and love. My first fall. Some new friends.

Thank you.

October

Hey, October.

It's getting colder, and the leaves are finally changing.

I had my first sip of hot chocolate last night, and we're making pumpkin cookies tonight to really kick in the fall festivities.

It's supposed to snow next Tuesday, and I'm not looking forward to that.

But, October, you're one of my beloved months, one of those months I'm in Rexburg.

We'll see what you bring, October.

September, pt. ii

September's been a good month.

Man, did I miss Idaho like nothing else. It feels so good to be back. Everything just went right back to normal, right back to how I left it.

There were those random differences, that left me with pangs of missing people, or memories, but even with those it's what I wanted; it's exactly what I expected.

Some pictures.

Home

if you look really closely you can see me in the tv

this post has been through a few drafts

...

This city's gonna break my heart
This city's gonna love me then leave me alone
This city's got me chasing stars
It's been a couple months since I felt like I'm home
Am I getting closer to knowing where I belong?
This City - Sam Fischer

...

Home is a concept I've been thinking a lot about for the past six months.

Growing up I lived in one place. One state, one city, one home. Then I turned 18, graduated, and went off to college. I moved myself to Rexburg, Idaho. And I immediately felt at home. I loved it, that place. My school, my apartment, my roommates. But the end of that first year came and I was so anxious to get home. A lot had happened in that year, really that last semester, and I thought going home would fix all of my problems.

...

In a new town, got the same issues to work through,
turns out when you move you just take 'em all with you,
Now I'm missin (Rexburg)
Kansas City - The Mowgli's

...

The second I stepped foot off that plane, I felt displaced. Lost, upset. My parents picked me up, I was excited to see them, I was excited to see my whole family really. They took me home and I went to my room, trying not to cry. I had been dying to get back here for a month. What the heck was wrong with me?

All of my problems seemed to magnify when I was away from them. I wasn't expecting that. To be honest, I was expecting the opposite.

I tried to feel at home but was struggling. That feeling of displacement never went away. My home of 18 years didn't feel so much like home anymore.

Then, we moved.

We packed up our stuff and moved 7 minutes east. My childhood home wasn't mine any longer.

The new house still doesn't feel like home.

I went back to Idaho for a weekend, a wedding. And it was the most homely I had felt in three months. We weren't even in Rexburg, but fifteen minutes outside of it. I felt at home. I don't know how to explain that. But I knew I belong in Idaho.

Now this summer has been five months. I lost my best friend to a mission, and the rest of my friends were still at school in various places. I've been lucky enough to make some great new friends here in Arizona. I am so grateful for those people. I would not have been able to get through these five months without them, They made me feel like I could belong here, when I was struggling to feel any sense of belonging at all.

Coming "home" for me five months ago meant coming to see my family and my desert, and running from my problems. Though my problems arrived before me I think. In two weeks I will be headed "home" to a different place, but I still feel like I'm running from my problems, or at least from that feeling of displacement. I hope to find my own definition of "home" soon.

...

The wind is at my back
But my feet—they're stuck in cement
I try to live without regrets
But I always have to ask

So, Jesus, take me home
'Cause I'm afraid of messing up
'Cause everything that I got
Is from You

And it feels like I'm falling
And I don't know where I'll land
It feels like I'm falling
Would you please just take my hand

It feels like I'm falling
And I don't know where I'll land
It feels like I'm falling
Would you help me to understand

'Cause I've been waiting
'Round this town for too long
Wasting all my time
And my energy

If I don't leave by winter
I'll get snowed in
I gotta pack my bags
So I can leave...

... Oh, I gotta pack my bags
So I can leave
Falling - Michigander