It’s taken me forever to sit down and write this. Feelings of displacement have halted any creative production for this blog. My muse, my inspiration—gone—leaving me bewildered and confused in how I should go about describing my home-coming. How do I go about naming the strange mixtures of emotions that have been flowing and ebbing around me this past month? How do I follow up my own stories of distant lands and memorable experiences with the mundane? In all honesty—I can’t.

But I’ll try.

For a moment everything froze. It was like running a marathon and suddenly seeing the finish line. Out of the airport. Into my Father’s warm hug. My body was acting normally—grabbing the bags, giving hugs, walking to the car. Yet my mind was preoccupied. Suddenly flashes of the journey that had brought me to this moment formulated behind me, becoming the driving force that made my tired and swollen feet walk. The last mile. Number 26. Flashes of color. Smells and noises. Familiar yet distant faces. All now memories and not parts of my daily life. These were the forces pushing and propelling me towards the finish line. In this moment I found the old saying to be true: it’s not about the destination, but the journey. Stepping out of the SFO baggage claim and into the damp chilly Northern Californian night my journey began to fade as reality began to settle. I was back. The next few days hover in my memory as being surreal and hazy. Everything was still there—untouched by time—yet slightly different than I remembered, which only emphasized that the changed variable was me.

Now I’ve moved back to my college town of Santa Cruz, I am readying myself for the craziness that will begin in the fall– marking my senior year with a full course load and probably two jobs. Summer classes have begun and daily routines have grinded to a standstill forcing me out of my Spanish mindset and into the extremely rushed and efficiency-driven mindset that we as Americans see as the essence of life. Yet as a true nomad, my time in California is limited, with many possibilities for my life after I graduate from college. Peace Corps? Americorps? Graduate school? Cruise ship employee? Who knows—but as my future slowly unfurls I find myself excited to explore more and ecstatic to see what adventure may be next. Thank you to all of my readers—I hope you’ve enjoyed reading as much as I’ve enjoyed writing!

Safe travels,

The Lady Nomad