Send It In a Love Letter

(I wrote this column for the CSB/SJU Record)

“Where do I begin?”

My friends and I were gathered at the Brewed Awakenings Coffeehouse in Grand Rapids, MN, peering at each other over cups of steaming soup and tea.

“Start when you got off the plane in Athens,” someone offered.

Outside cars were bobbling down the snowy main street. Earlier that day, I’d climbed into the driver seat of my blue jeep and stared suspiciously at the steering wheel. I felt sixteen again as I tapped the steering wheel thinking maybe driving again should wait a few more days. Or months.

My only vehicle in Greece was the occasional, oversized bicycle. I’ve learned to feel fine with my feet on the ground. But common sense reminded me I’ve hiked alone in Turkey, managed the Paris metro system with two suitcases and developed a taste for eggplant in Greece. I can drive a jeep. I turned the ignition and the car belly-ached to life. I’ve collected a few cheesy mottos in my travels abroad.

How about this one? No turning back now.

We never know quite where we’re going or how we’re going to get there, but somehow we arrive. I’ve been coming home slowly since the 22nd of December when my plane landed in Minneapolis.

Snow. Wal-mart. Reality check.

From driving again to seeing peanut butter in the grocery stores to staring in awe at the amount of clothes in my closet, I’m readjusting with hesitation. But it feels good to be home.

So this is a souvenir for everyone reading my column. Fold it up and keep it in your pocket. Send it in a love letter. Use it to build a camp fire. It’s simple: enjoy time wherever you are.

In Greece we savored meals and lingered over conversation until the last drop of wine was gone. Each day began with roosters calling out from the fields. Each night began when the constellations stacked themselves into the sky.

When too many thoughts start chattering in my head, I go back to the Paros shoreline and the sound of wind blowing over the rosemary and thyme, how the sun set around 5pm made the island glow, how stray dogs followed me home from school.

Two months after leaving these memories already sound nostalgic and romanticized. Almost everything Greek is blurry, but I haven’t forgotten what I learned. Here. I’ll leave you a memo. Do you have a highlighter? I’m going to repeat myself.

Enjoy your time here. Not there. Not that other place. Here. Where we’re blessed with lakes, warm buildings, friendly bus drivers and old friends. It really isn’t so bad. After trotting across the ocean I can speak from experience. This is a good place to be. So where will you begin this semester?

Get out there and explore.