It’s the strangest form of déjà vu. Not the kind where you’ve
been there before physically, but the kind where you’ve been there before
mentally and emotionally. The two situations were thousands of miles apart but
the similarities striking.
The first: I had just graduated college, May 2009. I had given myself 3 days to drive from Spokane to Colorado and get on a plane to Africa for the summer. Of course, I had overbooked myself. I was alone, in the old Jeep, Sparky, leaving one life to start the next. My car was packed to the roof with everything I owned. I was heading home. Through my speakers played Swahili lessons in prep for the next few months I would spend in Kenya. Alone, I spoke out loud, not ashamed to miss pronounce or mess up. Responding and repeating. "Habari gani?" My mind racing with thoughts of college, everything I needed to do in the next 3 days, how much gas I had left. "Nzuri, asante." Could I make it to Sheridan? I was anxious. So anxious. Leaving behind the entire life that I knew and going back home to Boulder to start grad school the next fall. Was I ready? What was I doing? "Nafahamu kiswahili kidogo." Why did I feel so unsettled? Ugh, I'm tired. Can I make it to the next town? "Mimi ni mwamerica." I need to pee. "Na wewe?"
The second: Monday August 5th, 2013. It was my first official day of unemployment in my adult life. I had just quit my job and enjoyed a celebratory weekend filled with music and friends at Salmonstock Music Festival in Ninilchik, Alaska. I was driving home, back to Anchorage. My Xterra packed to the roof with a weekend's worth of camp gear, coolers, hoola hoops, and festival wear. Through my speakers came Spanish lessons in preparation for the next few months I would spend in South America. Loud, windows down. Spitting cherry seeds out as I responded to the Spanish speakers questions. "Son las siete y cuarto." My mind felt clear but that unsettled feeling was still there. I only have a quarter tank. Can I make it to Soldotna? "Tienes tiempo a comer?" I wonder where my sleeping pad is. Will I need it on my trip? "Tengo viente minutos." Should I try to see him before I leave? Do I want to? "Que hora es?" Will I be able to sell my car? Holy shit, my car is a mess! My mind overloaded with a to-do list a thousand feet long. Everything that needed to get done to make a smooth transition from a life in Anchorage to a life on the move. Prepping for a climbing trip and months living out of a backpack. "Que queires beber?" Cancel insurance. Buy plane tickets. "Me gusta la cerveza." Well ain't that the truth!?
It was the feeling of being alone. In every sense. The feeling of complete control and complete and utter uncertainty. The anxiety that encompasses your entire being and that can't be explained. I should feel relieved right? Months of tests and studying were over; reports and deadlines all gone, put to rest. Complete freedom. The feeling of escaping a life you love and maybe aren't ready to leave. But also, knowing you need to get away. It's time. The idea that you may be able to get over someone if you could just. drive. far. enough... The excitement and fear of the unknown and all that would happen in the coming weeks. That feeling that you need everything to just s l o w d o w n, but at the same time you can't wait for it to start.
This is where I am. This is where I have been. It feels all too similar. It's an awkwardly comfortable place for me. And I'm not trying to fight it.
These days of transition will slip by. Everything that needs to get done, will get done.
And I will start the next chapter.
Twendi!
Vamos!
No comments:
Post a Comment