Dragging Feet

I still haven't left Orange City. The plan was to get out of town on Monday. And here it is, Wednesday. Still here. Still wishing I didn't have to leave. Two weeks ago, I was dreaming of running away.

What the heck changed?

Motives. And circumstances, I suppose.

For the last month of school, all I was focused on was the senior show and getting the hell out of there. Now, I have no more classes to hate (all those B's and C's are another sad, sad story), I am done dealing with roommate stuff, I have wrapped up my theatre responsibilities. I have nothing left here to hate doing.

And now I don't want to leave. Typical.

I have spent the last few days being present. We have done nothing extraordinary or terribly exciting -- in fact, it's been rather boring at times -- but I was doing it with some amazing people. We have gone to lots of movies, read some plays, spent time in the sun, laid out under the stars.

And these are the people I don't want to leave. Not because there aren't people I love at home, but it's different. These are the people I have been growing with the past four years. They come from a common experience, understand why I am the way I am right now. We have jokes, stories that we've all been a part of. That's what I'm going to miss.

It hit me hardest yesterday. We had finished playing music in the theatre and I had to go back and get my purse. I knew exactly what lights to turn on, knew exactly where to walk to avoid running into curtains and walls in the dark. That building had been my home for the past four years. And it doesn't really belong to me anymore, not in the same sense.

I can always come back as an alum, think about my glory days, remember. But it's never going to be the place where I do homework until 4 in the morning. I will never have a reason to shuffle through the costume racks looking for a costume. I won't need to remember to plug in the ice machine in the green room. It won't be necessary for me to track down headset cords or find boxes that work. I won't be making any more phone calls to my friends who are late for rehearsal.

For the last four years, my identity has been tied to that building, those playing spaces, those light booths, that costume shop, the corner office with windows, the lobby with uncomfortable couches.

Now, I have to find a new identity. Scary.

So I've been dragging my feet, avoiding the unavoidable. Today I'm going home. To a home that hasn't really felt like home in a long time. My summer is still unplanned, my friends scattered in places I won't be, and my ties to this place stretched farther than I would like. My heart is aching for what I'm leaving.

I am trying to look ahead, but I don't know what's coming. There is nothing that is clear about the next three months to look forward to, and that makes it all the easier to look back. I know that whatever I end up doing will be good, and that I will find love and joy there. So that's what I'm trying to focus on. The upcoming moon journeys.

Until next time.