Absence makes the heart grow fonder, so they say. I suppose I've always believed that cliche to be possible, but it was only this past year that I really experienced its truth.
I have lived in south central Pennsylvania my entire life. I grew up on a quiet street, my best friend two houses down the road, surrounded by quaint farmlands, windy country roads, trees, and animals. I took all of this granted. It wasn't anything special; it was just my everyday life. When I moved to the city for graduate school and returned home, however, it seemed as though I was seeing everything with new eyes--or, even more accurately, it seemed as though I was seeing everything for the first time. I would drive down a country road--a road I had travelled hundreds of times before--and find that it took my breath away. Was the blue sky always that vast? Were the rolling valleys always that green, that full of life? Were the scenes always so serene, peaceful, majestic? Did the sun always set like that--ever so perfectly--just above that rustic red barn? Was the air always that clean? When did everything become so breath-taking? Did I always have such a desire to live in a house in the woods? And, most importantly: Why hadn't I thought of any of this before?
Of course, nothing had changed. I didn't go to the city and come back to a new place. I did, however, come back with new and different set of eyes. We're told that we need to see other parts of the world; that to do so is good, enriching, and beneficial for us. Living in the city made me realize that perhaps we don't need to see other parts of the world merely for themselves, but rather, also so that we will finally see our own homes and roots more clearly (for good or for bad). I was lucky. I went away--barely two hours--returned, and discovered beauty. I found that despite how I romanticized the city for most of my life, I also sincerely loved the farmlands, my garden, open spaces, places to hike, quiet, fresh air.
It is very likely that I will spend a bit of my life living in a city--particularly for a PhD program. Such a place has its charm (more open-mindedness and RESTAURANTS TO DIE FOR) and I have learned to appreciate and value the busy, exciting mood of city life. Yet, one's first "move" away from home is always the most significant, and mine certainly showed me that no matter where I go there will always be a part of me that is here. There will always be a part of me that aches for the beauty that is found at home. The beauty that was always here but I have only now begun to see.
love this.
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