“I won’t be seeing you for a long while.
Oh, I hope it’s not as long as these country miles.I feel lost. I feel lost.”
-Camera Obscura
******
I will be returning to Missouri tomorrow. After about four weeks with my old friends and family, one single rather insignificant moment has shortened my sleep.
A couple days after I arrived in Kentucky, a group of us ate at El Mazatlan. As if no one had ever graduated college, found new jobs, moved to different states, or desired any place that wasn’t at the corner of Lexington and Harold Bishop, we snuggled three tables together and doused our chips in salsa. We reveled in the food service, still unmatched near our metropolitan apartments.
We sat facing one another in parallel lines: Mikey, of Glasgow, sat directly to my left. Colin and Sage, of Nashville, at that end of the table. Steven and Katie Frein, now of Michigan, across and to the left. Matt Garrett, of L.A., directly across from me with his new girlfriend. Heidi, of Louisville, between Mikey and Sage. Katie Garrett, of Franklin, sat to my right. Tony, of New York and to her right, leaned back in his chair and said, “Mike. “ I, of Missouri, turned my head. “Mike, don’t moments like this make you want to move home?”
I blinked at him, and said, almost under my breath, “Yeah. It does.” And I looked back at my lap.
Since that day, I’ve sat down to write this blog about ten times. But every time I start writing, I can’t figure out whether or not I was telling the truth.
******
When I’ve dreamt of old age, I woke every morning and had breakfast with this same group of people. For some reason, we’re in McDonald’s. It would be more appropriate for us to sit at the Great American Donut Shop or wake up later and have lunch after many showers and much debate. But it’s always McDonald’s, and I’m not sure why. Maybe I think all old people hang out in McDonald’s.
Or because all McDonald’s are nearly identical; the lobby where we drink coffee and read the paper could be anywhere. Maybe Tony wooed us all to New York or I dreamed us into Portland or maybe we all just settled in Louisville because it’s not quite perfect for everyone.
******
The dream above is complicated and perhaps doomed by this understated fact:
In Missouri, I’ve made friends. Because I’ve not blogged in the past two months, I’ve not talked about them much, but just as I’d like them to know about the meaning of my old home, I want my old friends to know the meaning of my new.
When everyone left me alone in Kentucky last week, I started thinking about how exciting (if somewhat stressful) that every day in Missouri has been. I am immersed: not just in my discipline, my specializations, and the sweets of academic life, but in the lives of a new city and of people I want to better know. When New York, Michigan, L.A., Nashville, Louisville, Lexington, and Franklin all regained one or two pieces of me and home seemed so empty, I remembered that Texas, Omaha, Florida, St. Louis, and Kansas City are to be found in my new place.
******
Friends. Job. Family. (in no particular order unless contextualized). I’ve lived near my friends and hated my job. I’ve loved sociology away from my friends and forgotten why sociology in the first place. I’ve never had my own family, really, but I’m finally old enough to dream about one.
Ideally, of course, I figure out the perfect job, I live near most of my friends, and I meet someone and raise children.
Practically, the new ideal is two of three.
When I left Louisville on Saturday and Lexington on Monday and Nashville today and then when I left Franklin, and Thursday when I leave Kentucky, and eventually if I decide to put an end to this graduate school nonsense, I will have been dissatisfied. The drive kills. Until I decide once and for all and settle for what I can and cannot have; in a sense, when I learn to prioritize or accept my own choices, or rather than looking before I leap, stop leaping all together, or until I think it’s okay to sacrifice one priority for the other or can learn to anticipate the future at the expense of the present (to the detriment of, I should say), I am lost.
*******
I am tired of every goodbye feeling like death.
-Mike
