I've got about fifteen minutes to kill before I teach class and while I should be searching for reputable childcare in Boston, I thought I would touch base with our blog. Seems the blog is one of our constancies- strange to consider something from the etheral internet a constant.
We are staying with Ed's parents in Parkland- the place we both suffered adolesence and endured, for lack of a better phrase, Parkland pride. We walked to our high school the other day, discussing the role of our friends in our lives now that we are about to move 3000+ miles away. Ed and I have had an ongoing conversation about the role of friends in our lives- are we close to people because of proximity? Shared experiences? Common ideas/interests? Obviously it isn't just one of these things and each informs the other. I guess most of the friends I've made (and kept) are people I met in my late teens and twenties; as I get older I realize that promixity is important, but if I can meet with someone after months or years or still fall into that warm, supportive, enjoyable atmosphere with them, I know I have a -- and am-- a true friend. There are a few people I've seen and am planning on seeing where this is just the case- and I realize just how lucky I am to know such phenomenal people. At the same time, we're also realizing (somewhat painfully) that there are those cherished friends whose role may or may not stand the test of distance. Walking around our high school grounds reminded me of those friends I held dear above all else in my life (as is high school and college, no?) -- as did Ed. I hate feeling sad about things/people that I haven't had to deal with and being "home" makes it all so tough0 particularly when we're about to leave. The richness of adolensce experience (from high school to college years when we still return home for breaks and summers) is such a thick presence here in Parkland. I really don't want to be reminded of who I was; I rather focus on who I am and who I am becoming. I suppose, though, that acknowledging my family and friends' pivotal role in who it is that is Me, is bound to result in a bevy of complex emotion.
Class starts in 10 minutes. I'm sure I'll look back on this and realize how dramatic it was. But, isn't processing change dramatic? I crave the mundane.