Even as I wander, I'm keeping you in sight.

I hit the snag I think all candidates for service hit, and that’s lethargy. I was really sort of tired of talking to people about leaving. As graduation grows ever nearer, I was more than reluctant to talk about it. Because then people get excited for me and honestly, I wasn’t that excited for me. And then that entitles the questioner the right to ask awkwardly prying questions that aren’t their business and I’ll feel inclined to answer.

The trouble was barely trouble, yet it was troubling. I’ve been really blessed to always have been surrounded by people I adore, and this last semester has been no different. The dorm life is the good life as far as I'm concerned. I could care less that you're likely to get foot fungus from the showers and that my upstairs neighbor has a thing for Kanye in the early morning, because I get to be with my best friends everyday.

(Seriously, just try and get sleep there. The one night I was serious to the point of saying it out loud, I was up until 4 in the morning. Fail of epic proportions.)

My friends are the best and honestly, the magnitude of leaving them had just hit me.

The truth that no Volunteer wants to talk about is that there is no obligation from friends to remember you. Your family is stuck with you. They have no choice. Your friends however, even the most sincere of them, might move on in the 2 years we’re gone. Some clichés, like the one about absence making the heart grow fonder, were made up to make someone feel better, not to tell them the truth. Truth is, absence was terrifying me.

The vision I had of myself in Salone had changed from making up songs to remember the prepositional phrases with my kids to me siting in my mud hut, knees to my chest singing God Bless America. Okay, I'm exaggerating. But only slightly. I'm a social creature, and I don’t deal well with lonely.

I had Stevie Knicks in my head singing, “ Well, I’ve been afraid of change because I’ve built my life around you.” And the truth of the lyrics no longer seemed like a co-dependent girlfriend, but a Chatty Kathy desperate not to leave her friends behind.  

But in the spirit of classic rock, there was a candle in the window on a cold dark winter’s night.

Google Groups swept in like Superman yielding the other members of the group I'm trekking out with. Somehow in the misery of leaving North Park, I forgot that I'm not going to be alone. My new friends are still in their pumped about going phase, many of them already graduated and ready for their next adventure. They make me remember why I endured the application process and the painful conversations with everyone I love, explaining why I was leaving them for 2 years. They reminded me of the bigger picture, one so big it needs to buy two plane tickets to fit, that I somehow I forgot. 

I’m going to go teach some kids how to read, climb some mountains and, oh yeah, change the world, and then I’ll be back. My friends would be crazy to move on without me, all the crazy cocktail stories I’ll come back with??

To my fellow Volunteers: I haven’t met you yet, but you’ve already helped me more than you’ll know.  Thank you.

“When we get to the ocean, we’re going to take a boat to the end of the world. And when the kids are old enough, we’ll teach them how to fly. You and me together, we can do anything. ”