The irony is not lost on me, going from my job as “The Communicator” to a place where I, mostly, cannot communicate.
I’ve been here a week and a day. In the last weeks before my departure, I spent my churning anxiety steeling myself against the gnawing loneliness of these ten days, between landing and school beginning, with its instant community and promise of real friendship. After so much steeling, it has actually not been so bad.
The last time I traveled abroad alone was more than ten years ago. There are many ways to measure growth, and I guess this is another one. Historically, at least, I am a creature capable of desolate loneliness, which I don’t think many people know about me (and how would they?). This week I have been, in many real and measurable ways, almost entirely alone. But I have not felt lonely. On the plane, I felt sad; I did not feel lonely. Saying a dozen heart-rending goodbyes, I felt sad, but not lonely. 12 years ago, I left Boston—maybe I fled. Or slunk out the side door (as I did so many parties in those days). I still have dear friends there, but I needed to be gone.
I needed to leave Minneapolis, too. A friend asked, before I left, what I was sad not to be seeing through, and I could only come up with one thing: walking closely with Fernanda, Estiven, and Elena through their asylum process and their journey to safety, stability, and flourishing. It was a profound question, from a friend whose gift is such questions, and I’m grateful. My answer gave me peace with my departure.
But I’m spinning this out too long. The point is, I left this time feeling supported, loved, connected—rooted. Many things about this week have been challenging (notably, figuring out how to work the washing machine) but the only thing that felt hard is that you, or you, or you, are not here to share with me in this beautiful meal, or walk, or scene, or store I know you’d love. It has been hard to miss so many people that I love so much. It has been hard to have so much fun, experience so much delight and wonder alone. But you’re with me. We’ve talked a lot, some of us. I’m carrying you with me to this adventure on this side of the world, even as your lives go on.