This Pondering Heart

Everyone deserves to have those bursting-with-happiness memories. You know, the ones that leave you with a swollen heart and feeling #blessed. I’m lucky to have had many of those moments throughout my life, including this weekend. Aside from sharing a bit of my little getaway, I wanted to reassure you after my very dramatic post about the emotional challenges of living in the greater Boston area that I am taking care of myself and doing fun things (for those of you wondering, my mom has called me every day since). Although I absolutely struggle being away from my four favorite people (hi fam) on the daily, I am building a strong community that’s steadily turning into my New England extended family. I’m constantly in awe of the warmness and welcome so many people have granted me (a stranger) in these two years. There are many examples of generosity and just overall human goodness I could cornily describe, but I’ll save you some time. But because of these people I’ve unde...

Moving halfway across the country with no relatives and only a framework of a community, my 24-year-old heart didn’t realize just how much it would ache and long to be near family once the excitement of my new adventure waned. I moved to Boston for a job that made me realize work could be something more than just a paycheck, health benefits, a place you go every day. But two years in, living 18+ hours away from the familiarity of fields of corn, going from knowing everyone who walks my hometown’s brick streets to seeing strange faces every day rushing to get to their next destination left me feeling …‘blah.’ I missed the easy access to my mom’s taste-bud-popping chocolate-chip cookies, the comfort of knowing I wasn’t alone when Red, my lemon of a car, acted up and I was stranded (a car breakdown without your dad 30 minutes away isn’t easy) or when I was dealing with general health stuff on my own (when your mom isn’t there translating the doctor’s words for you, thi...

My dearest year of service, I was so afraid of what you would bring me. I couldn’t believe I was moving myself halfway across the country where my neighbor’s-son’s-best friend’s-aunt who I only know by association is the one person I could call if I had a real emergency. I remember stepping off the airplane in Boston completely terrified, petrified even, willing my feet forward and praying my heartbeat would slow down before it exploded.  Little did I know you’d be one of the best things that ever happened, for you would somehow find a way to squeeze what seems like a lifetime of lessons into 11 short months. Although you weren’t what I expected, you’ve found a way to give me more than what I asked for. To start, you’ve made Brockton a place I proudly call myself local. I may not know the street names or have eaten at all of the restaurants, but I can tell you how encouraging the Tuesday morning yoga teacher at the Y is, how the crossing guard at Pleasant and Pearl take...