Returning to school this semester has been quite a bit scarier than semesters past. Not that I've ever really been scared about returning to school (although during my years at St. Thomas I recall not being enthusiastic about returning to a boarding school with 40 middle school boys running amok), but this is the first time I've had the most independence and responsibility thrust on me. I recall the beginning of each school year making the 7-hour drive with one of my parents, dropping off all my furniture, and then saying goodbye for four months. And yet I was coming off pretty boring summers in 2004 and 2005 to where I was raring to bolt the confined spaces. And there was second semester last year, in which I had come off a social high in meeting a new group of people and having a series of wondrous spiritual events; after spending a week in which it felt "weird" to be home, I was ready to go hang out with the people that made my Interim last year.
This year? I've only been home a couple times (Christmas and after Interim), and it hasn't really felt weird at all. But perhaps it's been a result of something else. My energy level has always seemed to drop by the third day of break. I have been able to thrive on continuous activities with friends, such as pool, weight lifting, broomball, and just plain socializing. This year, with all but a couple of home friends away at school, it gets that much harder to keep myself entertained.
So for the semester, throw in the fact that I now have a car on campus, and my own cell phone, and include the necessity of making more life decisions, all in the middle of what will probably be my toughest semester as of yet (after the first week I can definitely confirm that notion), I have been going through thoughts as to what will be my home in just a matter of years. It seems only like yesterday that I returned from New York, raring to catch up with several of my friends with whom I lost years of "growing up." It only seems like yesterday that I was finally getting to experience life in the only place that really mattered to me.
For the past couple months, when I started thinking about where life is going to take me (I can't live with my parents forever). I had seriously considered taking a semester or two off (for reasons non-academical), but in doing so I would have disconnected from a possible future in Minnesota or other parts of the Upper Midwest. It's rather interesting how the student body at a school will always draw people from a vast number of different regions. I have friends in Minnesota, Oregon, Nebraska, Indiana, Virginia, Texas, Colorado, New York, and other places as well as Illinois. When school is in session, it's easy to meet up with such people all the time, because we're all together in the same few acres on which the lawns and buildings occupy. It doesn't hit me that we all come from these different places until I head home, and suddenly I have to realize that my best friends are somewhere between 20 and 700 miles away.
One of my friends from St. Luke's has talked to me about how he spent his childhood moving around every 3 or 4 years, and how his latest move to a college far away from the Chicago area has him uncertain about what currently constitutes "home" to him. I guess I've been luckier in that my family has been in the Chicago area for practically my whole life, and yet I'm the one who has moved around. However, at the same time, while I've had the benefits of staying relatively in the same spot my whole life, I haven't been able to explore or visit what constitutes "home" to other people. I have stated this many times in the past, but I am certain that to be able to find a place to call home and not merely a shell of a childhood I would need to find another stead in which to settle. Of course, said stead would have to include a job, an abode of some sort, and a community with whom I could spend my time.
Minnesota would be such a place. After all, aside from being separated from all the childhood memories that I know will never return (maybe in the afterlife), in an odd way it has felt like home. Maybe it's the fact that half of my ancestors have lived in the Upper Midwest, or maybe it's the fact that I have several people living up here (family friends, home friends who go to Minnesota colleges, or St. Olaf friends). But then again, who knows where I could end up. The trip to Arkansas was the highest point of my college career thus far. I could wander into Marvell, Arkansas tomorrow, identify myself as a member of FCA, and theoretically I could run and be elected mayor of the town, just like that. After all, it's not every day I get to plant a tree in the city square and take home a tattered town flag. The point is not to say I could be mayor of Marvell, but I could suddenly decide to live there of all places, and frankly it would be an unexpected turn of events.
So for the short term, the question would be, what do I do where? I will be here in Northfield for the next four months, but once again the summer is cloudy for me. Will I go home or stay up at school earning money by painting dorm halls? Who will I room with next year, and where? What will I do for spring break? Easter Break? Fall Break? I've been at a crossroads for most of the last 3 years. I took a risk in cutting ties with a church I had grown to love, going to an out-of-state school, and now registering in a program that will help me properly use my vision, especially crucial for finishing my studies and getting on a career track.
I recall the year 2008 as way in the future, too far for me to comprehend it. It's not that far anymore. And I hope I'm at least somewhere when it arrives.