Two Years Down

While I was playing on my social networks Friday morning at work, Facebook was kind enough to remind that my status on this day (Aug. 19) in 2009 read: "Last night in Worcester... hanging with my family"

Two years ago, I was getting ready to embark on the greatest, hardest, yet most rewarding adventure of my life. I just can't believe it's been two years already.

Time really does fly! I remember that night like it was yesterday. Mom, Megan and I drove to Dairy Queen for ice cream--I remember driving my Corolla for the last time (I sold it back to the dealer the next morning). There were a lot of mosquitoes so we opted to eat our Blizzards in the car while listening to the radio. Coincidentally, Chicago's "I Don't Wanna Live Without Your Love" came on the radio and Megan said she was singing it to me. I remember my eyes filling with tears but trying my best to choke them back because I'd never be able to leave if I gave in to all the emotions. Thankfully it was dark out and no one could see that I was about to cry. I get a little choked up just remembering that moment, which I will never forget.

When we got home, we sat with my dad on the porch around his beloved chiminea. I don't remember what we talked about, but I'm sure it was casual conversation in order to avoid talking about what was happening the next day.

Less than 24 hours later, Megan and Dad left Mom and me by the United gate. Although I tried to be really strong, I cried saying good-bye to my Dad after he said "we'll see you in a couple months for Thanksgiving" and realizing it would be the longest I'd ever have been away from my family without seeing them. I turned quickly, I couldn't face my sister or I'd lose it.

After lugging our suitcases filled with mostly my crap through security, Mom and I spent our time in the terminal picking out which JetBlue planes we thought had the coolest designs on their tails--I was grateful for something else to think about.

I also remember the day my mother left me in Chicago and it hit me that I wasn't on a mini vacation, but that I'd be staying there. I remember having a breakdown and begging her to take me with her. I cried at the airport as we hugged good-bye, kind of like a scene from a movie, except it was reality and we didn't get to shut it off when it was over. That's when my real life began.

A year later, I was grateful I stayed and was optimistic I could top my first year with an even more exciting second year in the city. Year Two was definitely different-- I found myself getting more accustomed to a daily routine, especially as I continued working my full-time internship and attending school. Spending time in the city wasn't as exciting and new as it had been the previous year, and I started repeating experiences, which led me to feel bored some days. I tried to keep the excitement alive by discovering new places, trying new things and making new friends, but it seemed to get harder rather than easier. Every flight back to Chicago after a visit home was tougher than the one before. In July, I full out cried on the Logan Express on the way to the airport, not even my sunglasses could save me from embarrassment.

I missed my family. I missed hanging out with my friends. I missed being around people who knew me and tired of trying to make new friends. I learned that even if you absolutely love a city that has a million things to do, it can get to be a very lonely place at times. In Year Two, I cried more than I smiled, mostly because I had my heart broken and was sick for the better part of October through December (again). I needed the comfort of the familiar. I needed my family and friends, they'd know how to fix me.

About a month ago, I was enjoying custard with my friend Jess (a CT native and fellow Patriot fan), recounting my troubles, the decisions I needed to make and whether I was going to move home. She put down her spoon, looked at me and said: "You can't leave, you have great friends here." It was like a light bulb-- it dawned on me that during my hard times over this last year, I made it thanks to a little help from my new friends. I was so focused on what I didn't have here that I completely glazed over what I do.

Jess was right, I was surrounded by great people in Chicago. My coworkers became confidants, old flames became great friends, and my fellow Patriots friends remained pals even after the season ended. When my parents visited in June, they got to meet some of my friends and saw that Chicago was a great place. I never thought I'd ever hear my mom encourage me to stay out here--but it happened.

Now, as I sit to reflect about the last 365 days and the start to Year Three in Chicago, it's amazing to think about what I've been able to accomplish (three things are even scratched off my bucket list):

-I got my Master's degree (BL)

-I actually finished a half marathon, and in a decent time (BL)

-Through the grace of the internet, I found the greatest group of Boston fans around and have made them my friends

-I actually bartended once and it was tons of fun

-I took a road trip to places I've never been to before. I learned a lot about myself, mostly that I can sit in a car for six hours at a time (BL)

-I scored a touchdown in a co-ed flag football league

Although this summer has been a tough one as I try to figure out my next move, I've decided to stay in Chicago for a little bit longer. I've been hired on as a contract employee (no more internship!) through December and am about to re-sign the lease on my current apartment. Without school, a full-time job or anyone to keep me here, part of me wanted to move home-- while I've been having my own experiences, I've also missed a lot in the lives of my friends and family over the last two years (weddings, pregnancies and soon babies!). However, there was a voice screaming in the back of my head telling me I'm not done with this adventure yet. I had to give it my best shot to stay here. I owe it to my flag football team, my Patriots friends and most importantly, to myself, to make Year Three better than the previous two.

I know I'll never lose that pang in the pit of my stomach I attribute to homesickness, but let's hope that a year from now I'm sitting here typing about new lessons I've learned about myself-- or at least have life figured out a little better.