Monday, July 23, 2007
Home
I leave Portland on Friday. Maybe not for good, but at least for a long time. If I serve my full Peace Corps term, I won't be back until early 2010.
I've been telling people that I'm leaving Portland to go home. But I feel more like I'm leaving a home. Framingham is where I grew up, but it's not really home anymore--it's more of a neutral place that's always there to fall back on if I need it, a place where I know I'm welcome but where I feel more like I'm on vacation or resting than truly living. Portland is where I've learned to live.
When I came out here I didn't know how to ride a city bus. I was afraid of biking on the busier roads and had to stop and look at a map when I biked downtown. I understood the grid system but could never remember the cross streets. I fumbled with my change when I boarded the bus, and was terrified of riding at night for fear of missing the Reed stop. Exploring Portland was an adventure, but it was one that I loved. Even before I knew the city, it felt like home.
Now I zoom along bike lanes fearlessly and move out into the car lane for left turns. I take a map, occasionally, but I almost never look at it. I know three direct ways back to Reed by bus, and several indirect ones. I've started to participate in the city: I vote in city elections, volunteer at a local non-profit, and buy the local street newspaper for a dollar when I go downtown. I know a few Portlanders outside of Reed, thanks to volunteering, friends of friends, and the local Peace Corps association. I feel like I'm starting to belong.
And now it's time to go.
I'm leaving to move on to something I've always wanted to do, but it's still hard. I'm leaving behind a group of friends who have seen me through some of the most stressful times of my life, and who have been there for me even when I was at my worst. I'm also leaving places I've left a mark on: the Reed canyon where I can point out trees that I planted, and a biochemistry lab where other people are continuing my research. Really, I'm leaving a piece of myself behind.
Someday I hope to come back for it.
I've been telling people that I'm leaving Portland to go home. But I feel more like I'm leaving a home. Framingham is where I grew up, but it's not really home anymore--it's more of a neutral place that's always there to fall back on if I need it, a place where I know I'm welcome but where I feel more like I'm on vacation or resting than truly living. Portland is where I've learned to live.
When I came out here I didn't know how to ride a city bus. I was afraid of biking on the busier roads and had to stop and look at a map when I biked downtown. I understood the grid system but could never remember the cross streets. I fumbled with my change when I boarded the bus, and was terrified of riding at night for fear of missing the Reed stop. Exploring Portland was an adventure, but it was one that I loved. Even before I knew the city, it felt like home.
Now I zoom along bike lanes fearlessly and move out into the car lane for left turns. I take a map, occasionally, but I almost never look at it. I know three direct ways back to Reed by bus, and several indirect ones. I've started to participate in the city: I vote in city elections, volunteer at a local non-profit, and buy the local street newspaper for a dollar when I go downtown. I know a few Portlanders outside of Reed, thanks to volunteering, friends of friends, and the local Peace Corps association. I feel like I'm starting to belong.
And now it's time to go.
I'm leaving to move on to something I've always wanted to do, but it's still hard. I'm leaving behind a group of friends who have seen me through some of the most stressful times of my life, and who have been there for me even when I was at my worst. I'm also leaving places I've left a mark on: the Reed canyon where I can point out trees that I planted, and a biochemistry lab where other people are continuing my research. Really, I'm leaving a piece of myself behind.
Someday I hope to come back for it.
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