this seems to happen right about this time of the spring. For this, I will be grateful to not be a student surrounded by students, where most of my relationships are defined by transience. I don’t get irritated by much–at least not in my friendships–especially not things that boil down to decisions made by the other person(s). But this irritates me: when the present becomes distant, the future is yet not here, but close enough that nothing remains worthy of time, energy, investment.
So far, I’ve lived in Waco longer than I’ve lived in any other place for quite some time (consecutively, at least). And I don’t see myself staying here. “Home for now” is what I keep saying. (And I’ve actually grown past acceptance and to embracing of that. Big steps.)
In all my transient times, from school to jobs, to schools and other momentary residences, I’ve tried to detach, and it’s simply not in me. I have increasingly realized that not investing and not growing roots is something I do not understand. And detaching roots prematurely also does not resonate with me. And it is this that periodically (right about April; just past Easter) threatens to build a wall in between friendships. It is unfortunate to feel confined to a space, place and time, and feel, in a sense, punished for staying past another’s tenure, or on the flip side, moving away while everyone else moves on.
Floating, without any sense of grounding in my surroundings, on those times that I have intentionally attempted this (out of some sense of protection or self-defense, I think) have been some of the emptiest, most hollow times. I distinctly remember my two separate summers in DC. The first 2 weeks or so of each time were some of the more painful and lonely for me. Trying to just do my job and “make it” to the end when I could leave and move on. I felt artificial and somewhat invisible. When I relaxed, accepted my temporary status, but dove in, I connected with people and enjoyed relationships that added so much depth to my time there, and found friendships that I still count myself as lucky to have as part of my life.
It isn’t fair to relinquish a time, a period of being, a location before it’s done with you. It isn’t fair to enter a place already looking towards what is next. It makes no sense to me, and reminds me of the times when I have done so, still hearing the echo of fear that defines the interim.
But it’s all connected, isn’t it? One place to the next, one time to the next. Nothing is truly isolated, and it is those that make up our here and now that carry us with confidence, assurance, grace, and all good things, into the next time. And when we are truly lucky, we get to carry those from before as we carefully take the roots we have and move them to new soil, to a bigger pot.