The Eraser

I love to read. I haven’t been reading much lately. Well…other than my Biology, Math, Religion and Culture, and Spanish text books.

I want this to change. I love to read.

Wait. They don’t love you like I love you.

I often daydream about the future. I daydream about all the places I could go. I daydream about all the people I could meet. My mind starts to wander into the black hole called “THE FUTURE.” Honestly, I’d rather just be content with being right here right now. However, the amount of time I spend on my computer doesn’t help much. There are all kinds of ways to feed my imagination on the internet. The images that enter my mind through the two small black holes located above my rosy cheeks often make my life worse rather than better. I love being young. I love being able to say “I’m young.” I think I love it because I know what it means. Don’t get me wrong. It could mean a whole lot of things, but when I say that I love it because I know what it means what goes through my mind is “it means that I’m not expected to have everything figured out right now. I have time.” And I’ll be the first to admit that I need guidance. And I know where I should turn when I need guidance. Where is that exactly? The Word of God and prayer. Asking my parents usually doesn’t hurt either. Anyway, about these daydreams. They’re awful. I would rather wake up every morning with wide eyes and big hopes than try and plan everything out for myself. Life is so much more enjoyable when I just say “ok. fine. I won’t try and make all the things happen that I want to happen, and I very well know that in I don’t really want all the things I want to happen to happen.” My life is in good hands. I just need to quit trying to hold onto it. I guess it’s not really mine, is it? Ouch.

Perhaps, in comparison to all that God has planned, my silly little daydreams are as they are. Just silly little daydreams.

I love maps.

There’s just something about a perfectly folded, oversized, double sided piece of paper full of greens and browns and blues that is appealing to me. Perhaps it’s the fact that it tells me where I am. Perhaps it’s the fact that it tells me where other people are. Perhaps it’s the fact that it tells me how to get from where I am to where other people are.

GPS is nice. Step-by-step directions are easy to follow.

But with a map you have the whole picture right there in your hands.

You grab the beef jerky, I’ll grab the atlas. Let’s go to California.

I feel as if I should somehow connect my love of maps with my unspoken desire to know where I’m going in life. Because in all honesty I have no clue where I’m headed. I have some ideas about what I’ll end up doing, but in my mind I’m doing (or trying to do) those things today. I know what I love.

Around this time about two years ago (wow! has it really been that long?!) I would have done just about anything to see the whole picture. I had, at that time, forgotten all about what I really wanted to do with my life. High school had fooled me into thinking that I could do anything and be happy. That wasn’t all true.

Honestly, I would have never imagined myself still living in Fort Wayne two years later. Staying at home and going to IPFW was the very last thing I wanted to do.

But I’m here.

However, I haven’t been here the whole time.

There’s a handful of people I know from high school that are either married, or are getting married very soon. I’m happy for them. I love going to their weddings. I love watching them make plans, and begin their lifelong journey with another person by their side. I believe the Lord is pleased with the decisions they have made.

But I’m so young.

What I mean by this is that I have time to stay home. I have time to do things like go to the Canary Islands for three months. I have time to transfer schools. I have time to take part in The World Race. I have time to help lead a group of students to Zambia. I have time to backpack through Europe with my best friends. I have time to learn. I have time to grow.

And I think the real reason why I love maps so much is because they represent all the possibilities.

And they’re all right there in front of me.

I only have to choose which route to take.

There were 6 of us.

Cecilia, Natalia, Serena, Vanesa, Liliana, and me.

It was wonderful.

I miss them. I miss living with them and studying with them. I miss going on trips with them and shopping with them. I miss eating with them. I miss our conversations at the dinner table. Whether they were about school, boys, religion, or just life in general, we always found ways to laugh. They were my group. They love me and I love them.

If I needed something, they helped me. It didn’t matter what it was. They loved helping me.

I had no idea what living with 90 girls was going to be like. My house is filled with boys. I had no clue if I would fit. I had no clue if I would get along with those girls. But I did.

Life was simple.

Get up. Get ready. Meet someone for coffee. Come home. Eat lunch with my friends. Go to class, or meet someone else for coffee. Come home. Buy water. Walk the streets of La Laguna. Eat dinner with my friends. Laugh at the stories of the day. Drink my cup of Cola Cao. And sleep.

I miss them.

I hope to see them again. I don’t know if any of them will come here, but I’m sure that one day I’ll go back there.

And we’ll reminisce about the 6 of us.

I miss this city.

What America feels like.

I was corrected while I was in the Canary Islands.

Apparently I’m not American. I’m Estadounidense. That would mean something like United Statesian.

We don’t have a word for it. However, my professor was right. I could live in Argentina and call myself American. I want to go to Argentina. However, my friend Cecilia’s boyfriend is from Argentina and I could never understand him. Oh well. I’m sure I’d get used to the accent.

So I’m sick. I have the flu, or a cold, or some stomach virus, or an ear ache, or a combination of the four. My dad asked me if it I was homesick or lovesick. He was serious. I said no to both. He said that I might not be able to tell.

I’m home, right? So how can I be homesick? I’m happy here. These people speak my language for crying out loud!!!!

And I did not fall in love while I was over there. I’m not lovesick. Sometimes I feel like if I were then the people around me would be happy. Every time I even mention a boy they interrogate me about him. Like that french surfer in my Spanish class over there…. Oh boy. I’m not ready to be in a relationship. I have no clue what I’m doing tomorrow let alone in the fall or summer or spring even. All I know is that I like languages and I like to travel. That can be a deadly combination. Especially having recently lived in Spain.

p.s. I totally loved it there.

So I think I’m homesick. For a place where I lived for three months.

And I know the reason why.

I have yet to tell anyone about it.

I don’t have any major success stories to tell.

But I love the people that I met there. I love my friends who live on that little island off the coast of West Africa.

And it hurts to think that I might not see them again. It hurts really bad.

And this I now blame for my achy body, my sneezing and random coughing, my ear that hurts, and the fact that if I don’t sit in a certain position my stomach hurts.

And right now, that’s what America feels like.

HOME

I’m home.

There’s snow on the ground.

And tomorrow is Christmas.

This feels right.

However, all I dreamed about last night was the Islands and Spanish and my friends there.

Tired

Tomorrow afternoon I’ll be back in the States.

I should sleep.

Because this song will never get old.

My mom arrives tomorrow afternoon. I’m really looking forward to that sweet moment we will have when we see each other for the first time in 12 weeks.

My life is about to change.

Do you have a song that you love to listen over and over again but have yet to get sick of? It doesn’t have to be your favorite song. It’s just a song that you can listen to over and over again. And that’s exactly what you do. You listen to it over and over again. Not every day, or every week, or every month, but every time it’s just time to listen to that song again.

That’s kind of how my life is right now. I’m in a place that I’ve been in before, and it’s just time to listen to that song again.

It’s that place that comes right before a big change happens.

There. That’s where I am. And it’s wonderful. Bittersweet, yes. But still wonderful.

p.s. Webster, the song is Last Time by Paper Route. I haven’t really figured out why.