Returning

I'm at this bustling, sunny, warm Queen Anne cafe right now-- achieving splendid success in my first grad school attempt at procrastinating. I was worried I might have lost the knack since being an under grad... But no. Still got it. Got it strong. Live strong. Like Lance.

Let me tell you something.

I have seen so many things over the past five weeks. You've seen them-- you've been looking at this blog. Heidi and I have clambered over mountain tops, we've slept on racing trains, we've roasted on Italian cliffs, we've gorged ourselves on the finest French delicacies, we've danced until dawn in small Irish towns, and we've guessed and soared and laughed and wondered and wept and sighed.

And now I am home... I am back to what is, supposedly, familiar. I honestly hadn't given "home"-- in the SEATTLE sense-- much thought. I thought of my family, I thought of grad school. I didn't picture what it would be like. I didn't consider whether or not returning would be good or bad or beautiful or new. I just thought, "HOME NOW, HERE WE GO." Better ramp up. Here we go.

This is what it is like:
I rode my bike to school yesterday, and I rode it home. I passed happy, fit Seattleites on the trail-- I was greeted by them and congratulated on the mutual enjoyment of the warm weather. I crossed the Fremont bridge and took in a big breath of water mountain view. I smelled the coming black-berries and remembered discovering that smell last year, and the huge host of sentiments attached to it. I realized that I've been BACK, in Seattle, for a year. I rode my bike, and I LIKED riding my bike, and I liked thinking of myself as a bicycle commuter, because that is what happy fit environmental Seattleites do, we ride bikes, and I was riding my bike, and I was in THIS culture, and I knew that I was a successful person in THIS culture, because I was Burke-Gilmaning.

This afternoon, I am in this sunny cafe, and there are "Adam" comic strips on the cafe wall because the comic that writes "Adam" comes here to drink coffee. I am drinking a macchiato, which is similar to the tiny espresso shots that Heidi and I drank in Europe, but it's stronger, because Seattlites have attitude about espresso and we like to be the toughest, most resilient coffee drinkers ever. This is MY culture-- these are MY people. There are people sitting outside in the adirondack chairs, because it's a sunny day, AND YOU DON'T WASTE THAT.

It's so heart-warmingly familiar.

I'm in school again, and I'm stressed again, and I have homework again. I have books to read, and skills to prove. This too, is familiar, and I love it. I love having my brain stuffed for six hours, and then leaving for some sweet Seattle spot to stuff in some more on my own. I love the intake-- I love returning to this. I haven't been a student for two years. I haven't been a Seattleite for five weeks. I'm back in both, and it's like returning to a hug.

It's such a surprise. I'd forgotten. I hadn't expected. I LOVE this. I do miss the traveling-- especially in the worst school moments when everything is crashing on my head-- but I'm blown away by how much I love what I've come back to. I didn't even do the reflection/analyzation that I usually do either! This warmth has totally snuck up on me-- like a friend holding a flower behind his back and then producing it with a grin and a flourish. See?? Like it?? And I do.

Circumstances are not easy-- I didn't return home to the lowest branch on the tree, I have a daunting climb ahead of me this year-- both in the personal and intellectual spheres. But there is warmth and familiarity and loveliness to cushion the difficulties. I'm so thankful for that.

This is MY culture. This is MY place. This is something new, and it's something I know so well. This is what's ahead of me. This is what I get to embrace.