leaving on a jet plane redux

from yesterday:

i had every intention of writing an entry about home sometime after my plane touched down here at dallas-fort worth international airport six days ago. but somehow, as it has a tendency to do, time went on, and now i’m here again – gate e37 – waiting for the plane that will carry me to los angeles and the next chapter of my life.

this morning when i woke up, the weight of leaving immediately settled on my shoulders, like the misty fog which shrouded our little house, a holdover from the heavy grey thunderclouds which dumped inches of rain on east texas yesterday. i spent the morning semi-frantically stuffing items of clothing and papers forgotten until the last minute into the one bag which i am allowed under the new baggage policy. some things have changed since i left the united states in january. all of my clothes, neatly rolled, were laid into my blue hiker’s pack, and i was amazed once again how well everything fit – some things haven’t changed.

before i knew it, though, it was time to leave, and i took one last good look around the home i was so excited to get to less than a week ago. when my plane from london touched down, i had jumped from my seat, jockeying for a space in the aisle before power-walking through the carpeted hallways of dfw, waiting fifteen or twenty foot-tapping minutes in agonizing anticipation, and finally throwing myself into the arms of my awaiting family.

an hour and a half later, over a series of massive texas highways, we arrived at that same house which i found myself leaving so quickly: the open kitchen, exhorting its inhabitants to “live well, laugh often, love much,” before blending seamlessly into our living room and my bedroom beyond, where it is neatly tucked next to the bathroom, with it’s green towels and red bicycles, and my parents bedroom in soothing lavender and deep purples. i’ve never been one to associate “home” with a specific place, and yet this little country house on the corner of mulberry and michigan has carved a little hole in my heart. maybe more because of the memories that we have made as a family there. maybe because it’s the first house, in the traditional sense of the word, that i have real memories of. regardless of the particulars, this space of peace and tranquility is also a place where i am deeply and truly known, and after a semester of wandering half a world away, that’s a really lovely feeling.

so here we are. all of that is to be left until i have another four or five days at the other end of my summer, in august, and i find myself wondering what in the world possessed me to accept this internship at ucla medical center. but even in the time it takes to write that sentence, i remember again my love of adventure, the exhilaration of change, and the promise of something new. my independent streak wells up within me, and i smile...