the end...followed by a new beginning

The end began in tears, as most endings do. I didn't know at the time that the tears were the beginning of the end, but then we rarely do. (That rhyme was a complete accident. I'm sorry if it offends you. I'm not changing it.) All I wanted then was my own bed (which I hadn't had since January when I gave mine away because it was hurting my back). Actually, the bed was irrelevant. What I really wanted was my own space. I hadn't had one of those since June 3, the day my roommate and I locked our apartment for the last time and left our keys to the land lord. For the past 2 months I had been couch surfing, backpacking, attending a funeral, and couch surfing some more. Now don't get me wrong, backpacking and couch surfing  are great ways to save money and acquire some good stories (funerals, less so), but when you are trying to figure out what you are actually doing with your life, not having a place to sit down and think, or even sleep, is not super helpful.

*****

I went to work Tuesday morning. No. I woke up too early, went for a run, took a shower, went into town for coffee, then went to work at 10 Tuesday morning. Work was Poppy's, a cute little sandwich shop in Durango, Colorado. I had only been there about 3 weeks, long enough to learn everything, rock at it, be off 3 days in a row, and come back to work more useless than I was when I started. We'll just say I was still getting into the swing of things. Everyone was nice...except for the one girl who really, really wasn't nice at all. It only takes the one. One person being unnecessarily rude can just completely drain you. Well, that and having a line out the door for the better part of 3 hours. That can be a little tiring too. By the time I got off work at 3:30 Tuesday afternoon (I know, not a long shift. Don't judge me) I was pooped. All I wanted was to go home (which I didn't technically have) and take a nap.

Well I went to the next best thing to home, my friend Sarah's house where all of my stuff was living. I was probably about to go out and do something awesome instead of taking a nap...no, it was raining. I was totally going to be lame, but a friend called and he and his roommate wanted to take me to dinner as a thanks for dog-sitting the most wonderful dog in the whole wide world (sorry to all you other dogs, I'm sure you're great). I went. I ate. It was great. It was 6pm and I was was full and sleepy. Now I really, really just wanted to go home (which i still didn't have) and take a nap.

I returned to Sarah's house, where not only was all of my stuff living, but all of our friend John's stuff was there too. Actually, let me just take a moment to explain this house to you. It is tiny. Two people could comfortably live there. Three people were on the lease, two people were couch surfing, and all of us were immensely popular so all of our friends were in and out at any given time. In short, the living room couch was not the ideal place for me to sit and be alone.

"John, if I start crying I promise it isn't anything you said."
"Oh god. Ok. Are you ok?"
"Yes. I'm just very, very tired, and when I get tired I kind of cry unexpectedly."
"Ok."
"Ok."

I cried. I then started laughing because I felt stupid about crying. Then Bryce (who actually lived in the house), John and I sat down for a movie. Well they sat. I curled up in a ball with every intention of passing out as fast as possible. Great success!

When I woke up the next morning, still on the couch, I knew. I had avoided the thought the night before. It would only have made me cry more. But in the light of morning I knew what I had to do. I didn't have a particularly overflowing income, granted I didn't have to pay rent or bills, but if was planning on staying in Durango through winter I would eventually need a roof over my head. My friends are nice, but even lovable little me might get annoying on the couch after about 3 months. Aside from my friends, and of course Durango itself, there was nothing truly keeping me there. I had graduated a year ago, I had a disposable job, I didn't have a lease and most of my stuff was in boxes anyway.

"Mom. I'm coming home."
"What!?"
"I'm coming home. Not right this minute, but I'll be leaving in a few days."

That was Wednesday. I left Friday morning after having quit my job, closed my bank account, packed my life into my little car, and said my teary-eyed goodbyes.

*****

I'm at my parents' house now, in East Texas where I certainly don't belong. I have grown to appreciate it as my source and love it for all its quirks, but my heart still lies in the mountains somewhere. Maybe I'll go back one day. Until then though, I have finally found a direction for my previously floating life. The end of my time in Durango began in tears, but now I am facing a whole new beginning and a fresh, clear-eyed start (until my allergies kick up, then all bets are off). I have a one-way ticket to Guatemala where I am going to build a water well, then work on Spanish for 2 months. After that I'm flying down to Costa Rica to get certified to Teach English as a Foreign Language (TEFL). Hopefully said certification will lead to a job there. As hard as it is to leave the things you love, sometimes you have to in order to grow and to stay alive and to remember why you love to begin with.