I never blogged about that final, “I'm baaaaack" post. I never wrote about it, because I’m
still trying to understand it. I did not feel like I was ready right when I
left Central America
Before I came back to the states, I
was overcome by the emotions of going back to my loved ones and sharing all of
my experiences, excited to brag about all of the awesome new people in my life
and the memories we shared. And I really have not sat down with anyone and
shared more than the surface level memories, and I struggled with that for a
while. Why doesn’t anyone want to know? Why don’t they care? And of course they
don’t care as much as I expect or want them to; they were not there. Just like
I will not understand how hard it was for my parents to have their only
daughter traveling through third world countries until I have a child of my
own.
And on the other hand, I did not
want them to know, I did not want to share. I began to believe that once I told
my most incredible stories, my times of enlightenment and pure euphoria, those
memories would not just be mine anymore, and the person I told them to would
not even understand the gravity of what I was sharing….I am hoarding my own
memories.
John Green
just wins in all aspects of writing, The Fault in our Stars being his most well
known novel, for good reason. But I just started a new one by him, Looking for
Alaska. Amazing. Strongly recommend it. This morning I came across a quote that
encompasses a lot of how I feel…”but I realized that the Colonel didn’t know,
that she never took him to the edge of the woods and told him to dig for buried
treasure, that she and I had shared that alone, and I kept it for myself like a
keepsake, as if sharing the memory might lead to its dissipation.” Gold. This
book is genius. He wins.
I am so
glad that I took about a gazillion pictures over the course of 4 months. Many
of which I am also still hoarding. But what I am most glad about is that, for
the rest of my life, I will hold these memories that touch many different
corners of the globe, and stay rooted in the hearts of my friends. Our
keepsakes.
I have just
been feeling sentimental lately, it is hard to believe that it has been over a month
since I have been back in the states, and I am dealing with that ache for them,
and the confusion that I will never be the same person as I was before I left.
This life is one big f*cking labyrinth that I will never get out of, and I am
finally okay with that. I always thought there would be this final destination,
the finish line. Happiness, contentment. I have spent my last 21 years waiting
for the next thing, looking forward, but there is no finish line for happiness;
true happiness comes from being discontent about something 100% of the time and
being okay with that (learned that one from my wise ol’ pops).
Being
‘home’ has been hard, and I am beginning to realize that ‘home’ is just a
social construct, it is a materialistic landmark, and my real home is who I am
with. I was just as much at home in Mira Flor, Nicaragua, as I am in
Minnetonka, Minnesota, because of the people I am surrounded by. My parents
just put the house I have spent my entire life growing up in on the market, and
naturally when I tell people the first thing they ask is, “Are you sad?” Which
of course I am sad, I have countless memories of this place…but I have begun to
look back, and I don’t have a single memory that does not include another
sibling, parent, friend, cat, dog, rat, frog, etc. (bless my parents hearts for
putting up with my love for strange creatures).
So it will
be sad to leave, just like it was sad to leave Central America, but I will make just as many memories in their next house,
just like I will make new memories in my first house, and my next destination. A house is where you
settle for a while, but a home always depends on the people you surround
yourself with. Just like I said in one of my first posts, when I was living in
Guatemala, home is where the heart is. So as I continue on in my labyrinth, and
make my way into other people’s labyrinth’s, I will be forever ‘readjusting’
and ‘reentering’ into life.
I follow this amazing photographer,
and her new tagline is: beginning of anything. Through the transitions of life,
it is always just the beginning, the beginning of everything and anything.
“It feels good to be lost in the right direction.”
Cheers,
Hannah
