The old adage "home is where your heart is" is a very lovely thing to cross stitch and hang on your wall... when you have a place to live and a settled life and a career that isn't completely terrifying.
But my life isn't like that right now. I don't have a place to live or a settled life or a career that is certain.
And my heart isn't is one place, so you can imagine that the specific location of "home-" that one spot on the map- is pretty hard to figure out.
My heart is in Blissfield, where I grew up, where my roots are, where my parents are. My brothers have gone for the most part so the ties aren't as strong, but it is still the place where my childhood happened.
My heart is in Anderson, where I discovered my passions and my dreams and developed my person. I have friends there, and connections, and fantastic memories.
My heart is in Chicago, where I found myself independent and challenged and inescapably happy. I miss teaching in the city, walking in the city, listening to the city.
My heart is on the East Coast, where I have a fantastic job this summer and some prospects for the fall. I feel like I could be really happy there, both professionally and personally.
And my heart... my heart is in Romania. Part of me will be left here, in the eyes of my students and the juxtaposition of concrete and green spaces and the warmth of an entire nation.
I booked a plane ticket back to the States yesterday, and it feels final. It feels... real. I have an end date for this chapter of my life, and it's bittersweet. I'll leave this city on the evening of June 18th and arrive in Chicago on the afternoon of June 19th, more than 24 hour later. I'm worried about a lot of things, many of which I'm sure I'll blog about... but not feeling like I belong anywhere is currently at the forefront of my mind.