I could be wrong. Actually, I have a year’s worth of pictures that say I’ve been somewhere else the past 11 months. But it is weird.
When I stepped off the airplane in Pittsburgh on July 8 at 9:30 am, it was like no time had passed. The gates were the same, the stores were the same, and even the moving walkways were still under construction (oh Pittsburgh, some things never change). I’ve slept in my room in my bed by myself for four nights now. My mother cleaned my room in anticipation of my return, and like a good daughter, I started adding my mess almost immediately. And I haven’t even unpacked my pack yet.
I’ve fielded a few of the inevitable questions.
“How was your year?” Fine, thank you. How was yours?
“Which country was your favorite?” Kenya. No, Romania. Wait, Vietnam, for sure. Or maybe Israel.
“What are you doing now?” Nothing. And I am not ashamed of it.
On the Cold Springs Trail in SB. The crazy-looking ones are Canadians.
After landing in LA, I had the awesome privilege of spending nine days in Santa Barbara with my fantastic teammate Joe and his equally fantastic family. I had said to Stacy while we were there that all the mountain hikes, all the walks down State Street, all the beach trips, and all the wine tastings made me want to explore my hometown. There’s a state park not too far from where I live. It’s got trails. I’ve never taken a stroll through downtown Butler. I should find a great little coffee shop.
I have gotten exactly nowhere on that plan. It’s just not as much fun to do by yourself, without your requisite posse of four or so with you.
Our SB host, the illustrious Joseph H. Bunting.
I’ve spent most of my days sitting on my bed, exploring the music that I’ve accumulated this past year from my squadmates. Music is one of my greatest loves. I’ve actually done nothing but listen to my acquisitions for two days straight. It reminds me of the people who gave me the music. I’ve blissfully reminisced with iTunes enhancements from Stacy, Danielle, Julia, and Dez. I could tell you that Leize enhanced my life with Vampire Weekend in Vietnam, April opened my eyes to Joshua Radin in Romania, and Daina introduced me to Ben Lee in Northern Ireland. And whenever I hear “Falling Slowly” from Once, or the Goo Goo Dolls’ “Name,” I’m brought back to Kenya when Grant and Joe (respectively) played those songs on the guitar.
Another one of my loves: sports. There is a recording of the Final Four on our DVR that my dad has waiting for me when I’m ready to watch it. I watched the World Cup final with him yesterday. More memories attached to those. I remember being absolutely breathless on the day that the March Madness brackets were announced, and most of my team laughing in one of those you’re-crazy-but-we-love-you ways. I remember Heather’s triumphant announcement at debrief in April that Duke had won the NCAA men’s basketball championship. And I have to be honest, when I watched the World Cup without the setting of Mike and Denise’s room, and without the presence of Joe, Leize, and Tim, there was something decidedly lacking.
I guess there’s not much of a point to this blog. Just verbalizing my current inner monologue. The short version: I miss my K squad.
