I've seen the signs everywhere. First was the lack of cohesion on my new crew, then the realization that the post office does not deliver to residences or do anything more than sit and be a post office. The lack of a public swimming pool within 40 miles threw up a red flag, as well as the lack of shopping choices.
What made matters worse was the sketchy cell service and barely there internet access. And would you believe stores opened and closed at random, completely out of sorts with their posted hours of operation?
Then came winter. That really honestly should have been enough. The first snowfall should have sent me packing and heading to warmer climates. My first near death experience on icy mountain roads didn't quite do it either. As I hiked up the side of a mountain, knee deep in snow carrying my gear, a full drip torch, a tool and a 45lb can of drip torch fuel I felt like I belonged in the Everest film- trudging at a snails pace and barely able to catch my breath.
I attempted an escape up north only to be sidelined by injury. Being back in San Diego made me nostalgic for all the things that spelled home for me: public swimming pools, the ocean, plentiful stores and shopping centers, all my friends, home postal service delivery (what a concept!) and no ice on the roads.
But not until today, yes this very day, did I fully understand exactly what I had left behind. And it wasn't until a certain moment today that I realized home is so much more than where you hang your hat or tuck away your heart. Today I realized that home is a web of community that spins itself around you and makes you who you are. Not like clothing you wear but more like the skin you are in. I'd like to say I'm resilient and flexible, that I can survive in any situation. But living is more than surviving and it's so comfortable to fit back into your skin like an old pair of shoes you wish you hadn't thrown away.
What exactly led me to this conclusion today? Quite simply: the staff at the local swim shop recognized me when I went in to buy a pair of goggles and mentioned how they hadn't seen me in awhile. It was right then and there that I realized I had done something horribly wrong. How could I leave my swim shop? They were part of the swimming family/community that I had grown with and that fit into such a big part of my life that yes, that swim shop did make me who I am. I have spent more than my entire college tuition at that swim shop. I have worn their products more than any other piece of clothing.
It really rubbed into my face the fact that when I go back to my station I will no longer have ease of access to: a swimming pool, a swim shop (what if my goggles break?), postal delivery service, the big majority of my friends, the ocean, stores, a non-slippery surface on which to operate my vehicle, the comfort of knowing I will not get snowed in and die, frozen yogurt and sushi, and a gym that has heat in the winter.
I miss swimming, I miss my coach, I miss swim meets, I miss surfing, running in sunshine, hanging out with my friends, rollerblading (try that in the mountains), quick errands to the store, my local running shoe store and my local swim shop. I miss sidewalks (yeah they don't really have those up there) and SDSU (I really do miss that place). I miss stores that are open past 7pm... and swimming pools! Any old 25yd lap pool with public admittance (year round). I miss not having to drive 3.5hrs to get to my orthodontist or hair salon. Coffee shops open past 8pm!
I could go on forever. The point is this really won't last and I'll make it home eventually. Right now there just isn't the opportunity so I will roam a little longer- but maybe closer to larger towns.
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