Every time I drive from Wichita to Colorado, I sit in the car, eagerly waiting for the mountains to pop up like I know they're going to. When I made the decision to move from my beautiful Colorado to flatland Kansas, I knew there would be things that I have to sacrifice. The first of which is, obviously, the comfort of living with or at least near my parents, the second of which are my mountains.
Wichita, Kansas, and Crawford, Colorado are 12-14 hours apart, depending on who is driving. I had been to Wichita too many times to count before I moved there, visiting family, going to reunions, weddings, celebrations of anniversaries. Obviously, I was no stranger to this city. I even grew to love it eventually. So when I made the decision to come to the small, modest private school known as Friends University, I knew exactly what I would be getting in the process. A smallish but not too small city with plenty of cultures, some of the friendliest people around, and an incredible school that fits almost perfectly with my personality.
As much as I love Wichita and Friends, I dislike the weather of Kansas. A true Coloradan at heart, I long for dry heat, predictable rainstorms, and stereotypical snowfalls that last for weeks instead of mere days. Every year that I've lived in Kansas, I've felt the separation from my home state a little more keenly. Every year, I say I'm going to stay in Wichita to work during the summers, and every year, I change my mind and find an excuse to come home, if only just to be there for a week or two.
Yesterday, I finally made it home for the summer, and I felt like my heart was whole once more. As soon as I got out of the car, I felt an immediate difference. My lungs drew in the air easier, my feet felt familiar with the ground I was walking on, even the air smelled the same. There was a welcoming of sorts, like my familiar old mountains were as happy to see me as I was to see them. I thought about everything that I was going to get to do: hiking and exploring and visiting the spots that hold the most memories. I thought about all of the old friends that I would see, high school pals and church friends and even old acquaintances.
Anyone who has left home knows what it's like to come back after a long year away. You love both places that you inhabit, but deep down you are always missing home. Anyone who has left for college knows what it means to come back. This time for me may be a little bit different. I don't know what it's going to be like the next time I come back. There has been a huge change in the community that I know will affect many lives, including that of my own family. But regardless of what's going on here, what kind of people decide to live here, what the current politics are here, I will always feel at home in the North Fork Valley.
