The Lone Blogger
Since everyone is probably stressed to the max because of finals, I realize that no one will be posting until after Christmas. As such, I decided that I will be the lone poster of the blog.
Sis. Morgan, thanks for the tips on cooking the turkey. Thankfully, I didn't have to do that this year, but I thought I was going to have to. I was talking to my mom and she was explaining how to cook it and when she got to the part about the gross stuff I had to say, "Wait, wait. I have to stick my hand where to get what out of the turkey????" But I guess there's always next year.
Thanksgiving was quiet. We went over to a neighboring couple's house and had dinner. We brought pies and salads and other traditionals, attempting to make our neighbor's house fit the mold of both my family and David's family Thanksgiving.
Now it is only 16 days until we get to come home for a few weeks. 16 days. I try and remember what it felt like to first come here. When I first arrived in Hershey. It was so foreign. Now it feels like I have two different lives. One out here and one out there, and neither of them are the same or have any connection to the other.
A couple of weeks ago my brother-in-law came to visit us. (He had a business trip in New Jersey). We met him at a restaurant that was rated with 5 stars online. When we arrived and took a look at the teetering sign that said, "Louis'" and the black streaked walls, we concluded that you can't trust internet ratings. We went in the two room building and there was my brother-in-law sitting in a dark corner with a newspaper in front of him. It seemed like some surreal dream; one where you are living your life currently and you encounter someone that you haven't seen since elementary school. And at that moment you have to stop and check yourself. Which life are you living? Are you back to the one before or the one now? And shouldn't they all be the same life? Only they feel like they aren't.
I stared at my brother in-law for a good 15 minutes until I concluded for sure that, yes, he was not a dream or figment. I had to watch him eat his chicken alfredo and slurp up a noodle from his fork. I had to speak with him about his Greek and Arabic studies. I had to observe him take off his glasses and clean the smudges on his shirt before I actually believed it was him. It really was someone from a life, not from a dream. And he wasn't just from a life, he was from my life. And then I remembered, I have not always been out here and lived this way. I had another life-- a different life. Not necessarily better or worse, just different. But how to make the two connect? How to reconcile who I was and who I am with where I was and where I am--I'm not entirely sure.
I have, quite literally, been counting down the days until we go home for Christmas. A paper chain made of construction paper hangs on the door of our bedroom marking each day that passes until Christmas break. When it was first created, it was a circular chain; now it is straight. There are not enough links to make the ends meet. But now that my chain is smaller and the days are colder, I'm not sure what to do. And I feel I need to make my chain a circle again, but I'm not sure I am big enough to make the ends come together for another beginning.