In a little less than a month, I will find myself getting on a plane and leaving Indianapolis. All my clothes will be packed up, and the bedroom I spent nearly two years holed up in will be vacuumed and clean. All my local hangouts will forget my name and my order, soon enough they'll forget my face, too. My mark on Indianapolis as a city was always made in disappearing ink. I am not graduating, but I must take this final journey back home, for a self-imposed year long hiatus known only by the sacred name. Thesis.
But what of the times I have had here, what of the people whose presences I have learned to cherish? What of Meijer, the supermarket where I buy food that I need to live? What of Scotty’s Dawghouse, where I go to drink alone, or sometimes, with friends? What of that long nature trail that leads all the way down to Broad Ripple? What of Broad Ripple whose hustle and bustle was key to many a lovely night?
It’s important to remember that even if I leave, I can always come back. As a matter of fact, I have to come back to grab my degree anyway. But, I must come to terms with the fact that a large part of my life is ending and that I will have to adjust. I will have to re-establish myself again, in another place, so far away as to resemble another world now. That fills me with a kind of fear I can’t vocalize, that I won’t be able to reconnect with these people after I leave, that I am severing my threads that attach me to everyone here. There’s a real fear of separation involved when I cut myself off from this writing program. Social media does its part to alleviate this but even so there’s no match for the kind of face-to-face contact that this campus offers.
I’ve already had to make so many changes leaving Tallahassee to Lakeland to Indy and back, adjusting so many schedules to make enough time to talk to everyone, and I’m worried that I’m going to leave someone out, some secret friend whose name will reveal itself by the time that it is already too late. The people here have been nothing but lovely to me and I wish with all my heart that there would be a way for me to repay them.
Going headlong into the unknown can be scary, and it should be. Without risk there can be no reward. By transporting myself back home, I have taken these risks in the name of my degree and in the name of my parents who have supported me all this way. I have taken their weight on my shoulders, the weight of my experience and the weight of their expectations. This may be a lot to bear and though I may falter at times, despite all of this worrying about people who are worlds away, I know that I am ready for it all.