One week from today, I will be back in Minneapolis.(I should note that this is only a quick 10 day trip back – graduation and wedding). It is slightly surreal. Next Saturday will mark 315 days since I boarded the plane for Europe. I think part of me still expects to go back to B400 and my bedroom still be in place with all of my clothes hung up in my type/color organizational system; Kiki sleeping attacking everything on my bed, and Misha calling across the hallway about what outfit I am going to wear out that night and if we should go to Uptown or Downtown and the pros and cons of each. My mirror that literally makes a toothpick look fat will still be propped up in the corner; spice scented candles flickering on the window sill; a Spotify playlist playing in the background.
Instead, I will be sleeping at my sister’s place on the couch for the first few days and in a hotel room the rest of the time. I will be living out of a suitcase. My car is still back in South Dakota with Kiki. New tenants are in B400. And Misha is in Seattle. When I visit the Capitol on Tuesday, my old desk won’t have my picture frames or my emergency cardigan hanging on the chair or my five pairs of high heels under the desk.
I think my biggest fear is that I will feel like an outsider in the place I call home. But as my days are filling up with coffees, lunches, walks, happy hours, and yoga classes at all of my favorite places around the Twin Cities with some of my favorite people in this world, this fear and apprehension is slowly being replaced with excitement and a sort of peace knowing that I can travel, people can move into my apartment, Kiki can be on extended holiday with my parents, and my best friend can be pursuing her dreams across the country, but nothing and nobody can take away that place where you feel you belong.
The Traveling Farmer's Daughter 