I'm safely in Tempe. Thanks to everybody who checked in with me along the way or wished me well. Now that I'm here, I'm desperate to get all of my crap out of the car (but move-in isn't until tomorrow morning), and I'm going into serious friend withdrawal. (This is a clue for all you friends of mine who're reading this to say hi sometime! I'd love to hear from you.) Yes, I've made a handful of friends here, but I haven't gotten to see any of them yet, and they'll never be able to replace all the amazing people I met in high school.
When we were driving around town tonight, Drops of Jupiter came on the radio. I'm a fan of Train, and that song in particular has a special place in my heart, though I've never exactly known why. Maybe it's the chorus: "But tell me, did you sail across the sun? Did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights are faded and that heaven is overrated? Tell me, did you fall for a shooting star? One without a permanent scar? And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?" It really hits home now that I'm... well... not at home. Part of the whole point of college is to really find yourself and your place in the world (or so I'm told), and more than ever, I find myself asking and being asked, "Do you miss me?" The answer, with very few exceptions, is YES. Sure, I'll be okay here, and I'll have fun, but a large piece of my heart is still in San Jose with my friends and loved ones. Drops of Jupiter is now capable of making me cry, and not many songs can do that. It's becoming the song to listen to when I'm missing home.
I don't know that I've mentioned this before, but the songs on the radio for pretty much our entire pilgrimage to Tempe were ALL about leaving. It was depressing. However, the other song that's stuck in my head right now is If You Ever Come Back by The Script. It's that nice, sweet reminder that when you leave someone you love, you ARE missed, and that if they really love you, they'll welcome you with open arms upon your return. "I'll leave the door unlatched if you ever come back, if you ever come back; There'll be a light in the hall and a key under the mat if you ever come back; There'll be a smile on my face and the kettle on, and it will be just like you were never gone..." (And THAT'S where I break down.) That concept of unconditional love and forgiveness just amazes me every time I hear the song, even though I know I'll probably be met with a similar reaction when I come home.
Somewhere in high school, our images and our self-images become very, very different than what they used to be when we were kids. And now that I'm off to college, I'm realizing that some of the things that used to describe me might very well be used again if I want them to. One of the most amazing people I know said this to me recently (verbatim): "Think about this question: Who are you? Not name. Not physical appearance. Who and What are you? Now, is that who you want to be?" [Ladies and gentlemen, proof that there are still some pretty spectacular high schoolers out there.] I used to be so sure of what I wanted to do and who I wanted to be when I grew up, but now that I'm almost there and have been exposed to so many different opinions and judgments, I don't have that quick and easy answer anymore. So this year for me will hopefully be not about discovering myself - I've already done that - but about rediscovering myself and deciding what kind of person I really want to be in my life. It'll be an interesting journey, and I hope that when I get things figured out, you'll all still be here waiting for me to come home.
Love you all,
Megan
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