New York is so strange after Mississippi, especially the Delta. Everything feels landscaped and artificial, too perfect, unreal. People are curt and formal, distant, and it feels harsh after the casual comfort among strangers in the south.

It's good to be home; it's good to see these walls- my childhood home- and these mountains.
I don't belong to them anymore, though. While there are certain people for whom I will always bend, I feel rather distant from old friends, sometimes even my family- everyone who has not been there for the past two years. I understand how unfair that is, but I'm not sure how to bridge the gap between the people who were closest two years ago, and who I am after knowing my students, and their families, and their culture. I don't know how to disengage from the concerns that have dominated my life for months and months, and I don't know what to say when conversation and even lifestyle seems dominated by things that don't seem to matter. I'm hoping that I will get a job in service and education that will provide an outlet.

Leaving behind yet another life, another set of people who were everything, and contending with the holes that remain lead me to give new attention to an old question, which is "What do we build our lives around?" Most people want marriage, children, a family, and I've never wanted that before, but longing for people who are out of reach, again, helps me to understand the appeal of family and commitment and a home that lasts. Like most people, I'd guess, I really worry if I could ever find that. I am less concerned than I've ever been before that I would feel suffocated by that lifestyle. At least teaching has made it clear to me that I want to pursue service through my career. I can't imagine enjoying a corporate job after this- not that I ever could.