Sunday, August 13, 2006
The one problem with having an all-white keyboard is how dirty it gets. That seems to be the standard, though; that clean things get dirty. I once heard it said that you don't have to be clean to get dirty. But, I think that you do have to be dirty to get clean. We had a bonfire for Mercedes's 18th birthday last night. And as we sere sitting around the fire, after playing a game of tackle football, I realized something. I realized how much I was going to miss my life here in Monterey. I mean, it was like a movie. There were nine of us, sitting around a bonfire on Carmel beach, joking, goofing off, enjoying being around each other. And through the 'smores, the firewood and the sarcasm, I felt at home. I felt like I wasn't alone. And all I wanted to do was to stay there on the beach and wait out the storm of growing up. It was sweet. But, every minute I dwell on the experience is one minute closer to my inevitable plane flight. And I can't get past the fact that after two years of growing and developing these relationships, I have to move away and leave them all behind. I don't fear Georgia, and a big part of me is looking forward to the new life I'm going into. But so much more of me wants to stay and continue in the one I'm living now. So much more of me would rather keep putting up with tourists, seagulls, and the faulty highway system more than the heat, racists, and country music. But I've grown up hearing about how the Lord will provide, how He knows the plans He has for me. And I trust that Georgia holds plenty to look forward to, but my mind can't get away from all that I have to abandon for the sake of "the journey." I hate it. I hate that I can't find any solace in any of it. I hate how knowing all of the answers that I've grown up hearing takes away from the feeling of peace when I realize them for the first time. I hate how all I truly know in this life is what's behind me. And I can't get away from what's behind me. But still, Georgia is calling. And still, I am forced to answer her. Now the days are growing shorter, and the air is getting colder, and I lose my fight with identity, as I realize that this also is not where I belong.