Lately this question has been taunting me. It yanks on my heart strings and points fingers at my thoughts. The more I search for an answer, the more difficult it is to find one. Why do I live far away from those I love?
Two weeks ago I spent four days surrounded by some of my favorite people in the whole world. Not only are they fun to have around, but each of them completes a part of me. These people make me feel alive, loved, excited, and full. I feel like my true self when I am with them. As I watched my dearest friend walk down the aisle, I was a tearful mess thinking about leaving my friends and family with whom I feel so much love and to whom I have so much love to give in return.
But as I drove down I-35 and gazed off into the endless cornfields, I couldn’t help but think about the fact that every SUV on the highway was driving in a perfectly straight line. There were no obstacles or speed bumps in sight (except the narrowing to one lane due to the inevitable Minnesota summer road construction). There were no buses swerving to the shoulder trying to roundup people waiting on the side of the road to get to their loved ones. There were no motorbikes weaving in and out of traffic like a living tapestry. No horse carts, no taxis, no bicycles. There were no road stands—no scent of empanadas or Sancocho wafting through the air inviting you to slow down, sit on a red plastic chair on the side of the road, and take a break. Everything seemed predictable, easy, and safe.
It’s times like those when the answer to my question seems easy. Why do I live away from those I love? Well…..“I live for adventure!” or “I want spontaneity and unpredictability in my life!” or even “The world is my home!” I try to answer it with cliche phrases like those to try and console my aching heart. It certainly works for a little bit, but eventually the question tugs at me again, and I’m still left with that deep longing for my family and friends.
I think this is a question I will wrestle with for as long as I live away from those I love. I could move back to Minnesota and the United States and live a full, happy, very happy life. But there would still be an itch that I would need to scratch. An itch for something beyond the familiar. An itch for something that fills something even a best friend's hug can not fill.
Okay, let’s be real. Ultimately, my dream is that I have a jet and all of my favorite people in the world could come visit at any time, to any place, for free! But, until that dream comes true, or my traveling rash is cured, I suppose Skype/FaceTime and BIG hugs once or twice a year will have to suffice.
