This is not home

I wrote this about a year ago before I was a teacher here in the country. My thoughts remain mostly the same but I’ve learned to cope with dull days, made some friends but I still haven’t felt that “I’m home” feeling that I used to get living in Dallas.

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My home town before it was built.

My home town before it was built.

1 year ago, my fiance and I decided to move from Dallas-Forth Worth to 1 hour East, to a small town that averaged about 1,000 residents. Jon had gotten a job as a teacher, the economy really sucks, so I in turn sucked it up. Life, I would say, turned in weird and unexpected ways.

Thing is, I’ve never lived in the country before. The vast loneliness and quiet was absolutely strange to me. I tried constantly to remember back when I lived in Panama and lived in the country, with all the chickens, wildlife and rural-ness. So I relished in the oddities of illogical architecture, the beauty of a lake and the all-encompassing Walmart. There were no organic stores I could peruse for seasonal fruit but there were Mennonites, who had fresh baked bread and organic products. I went to my first flea market and I tried to find other reasons to like this place in which I just couldn’t, wouldn’t understand.
This wasn’t Panama. Panama was alive and people walking, talking about, and there colorful markets; this was my vibrant, beautiful culture. My family lived and breathed there. Panama was home; this place was strange and in my mind, hostile. It was sleepy and stagnant, not vibrant and growing.

I still drove the one hour and a half it took to get to work to Dallas. I had to because I have a wedding to save up for. Maybe someday I would work for myself but today was not the day. I still needed to wake up before 6 am in the morning to get ready, earlier if I had to walk puppy, and drive to work. I am refusing to let go of Dallas because Dallas for the past 6 years had been my home. That’s where my friends lived. Where all of the art festivals, yoga studio, gyms and random lil cafes lay hidden to discover. I told Jon everyday I wanted to go back home because days like these happen. The chores are done and it’s nine, but there’s is absolutely nothing to do. No one to see and nowhere to go meet them. I ask Jon all the time, what should I do. Driving to Dallas with gas prices the way they are is out of the question.

There is no quick solution to alleviate how I am feeling. As a military brat, my life has always been in transition this was a feeling I was used to. I believe the most important thing is to remain focused and strong even during the dullest of days. This too, shall pass.

 

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