A week is an strange period of time; the same seven-day cycle repeats over and over (and over and over) until a new month arrives. Months fly by, as seasons come and go, trees blooming then barren. So much can happen in just one minute in this world. Maybe it’s the New Yorker in me, but the Don Henley classic “New York Minute” really resonates in my life. So much more happens in a month, a year, a decade. But it’s always a particular moment around which vivid memories exist.
This past semester of my life has been an interesting one. These four months, I have been pushed more than ever before, and spread far too thin, almost to the point of nonexistence.
I’ve grown, and grown up, a lot. I learned more about myself and other people, and I’ve cried a lot. It’s been a roller coaster, for lack of a better term, and I apologize for that awful cliche.
Now, as I sit in front of my screen thinking about the week ahead, I can’t help but feel anxious. Will Jordan live up to the memories of last year? I loved Jordan last summer, and I only spent two weeks there. This time around, I will be living and breathing Jordanian culture for five weeks. I’m eager to meet my new host family, and also to reconnect with and visit Mama Munira. It really hasn’t hit me yet, that I’ll be around the world just one week from right now. I’m sitting here answering calls at the Boston Globe, and when I return to my dorm room later tonight, loads of laundry, folding and packing await.
Even if it doesn’t seem real to me just yet, if it hasn’t hit me, I know in my heart that I’m about to embark on a life changing journey. And deep in my core, I feel a sense of joy and excitement that I haven’t felt in a very long time. I’ll be moving from my shoebox sized room in Boston back to my home in New York on Sunday night, but it feels as though I’m not really going home until next week, when I will depart for Amman.
I’m a soul in search of a home away from home, because I can assuredly say I haven’t found one here in Boston.