My posting schedule for this newsletter has been incredibly inconsistent. Traveling back to Iowa and getting ready for September has eaten most of my time, but I am here now. I realized just how much I lean on this newsletter for validation and the responses you guys send in. When you reply to my newsletter with your thoughts, many pieces of my soul light up with joy. Thank you for always being here.
A lot of my friends in Muscatine have welcomed me with bright smiles and open arms. Former co-workers, community friends, and familiar faces have all inquired about my new life in New York. My conversations follow a consistent pattern of asking how I am doing and replying to their questions with, “Oh, you know, same old, same old.”
This is the Midwestern way of saying “nothing much.” Not much changes while I am gone, and that’s something I have come to accept. Coming home means readjusting to a slower lifestyle. People cruise around town when they're bored, and everything closes after sunset. There is no popping bottles on a terrace overlooking Tribeca. Instead, people sit in their garages, toasting cans of Bud Light.
One of the educators I used to work at SPARK with told me I should come back to the program next year. I thought about the request for a second and politely declined. I sensed that the program no longer required my service. My life has changed, not because I've done anything wrong. I continue to have a passion for education, but I do not believe that returning to SPARK aligns with my future plans.
Having that conversation with them felt strange. I walked away feeling raw and exposed. Something about standing there, explaining my new life, had me nervous. I am not sure how to explain it. Being in a restaurant filled with individuals from my past, all pointing at me and whispering, was not how I anticipated spending my time back home. Sometimes being yourself here feels like a crime. I just want to wear what feels right, that’s all. Let’s all play dress-up and feel good about how we look together.
TJL