I was planted firmly
on the planet with the notion that I am here to do something. And this self-righteous idea has only been
encouraged through each and every experience, activity, and job that I have
stumbled into since birth. Somehow,
however, I find myself now at the age of 26, a college graduate, an Returned Peace
Corps Volunteer, and a recipient of 4+ years experience in one particular field
with absolutely no idea what that something I am meant to do is.
I would like to blame this on Peace Corps. And I mean this in the most loving way. Well first, I will say that despite plenty of
down patches, I am relieved that I have under my belt a two-year service to my
country and to the world in general. (See, there’s the self-righteous thing
again!). More humbly, I know that every triumph
and error that came along during my service made me stronger and more accepting
of the way the world is.
However, as far back as I can remember I always knew exactly
what my next step was. Until I finished
Peace Corps. Okay, this is not entirely
true. I came out of Peace Corps
absolutely certain that I wanted to be a cowgirl. I could even go back and retrieve e-mails
written to loved-ones detailing how I felt that this was my natural calling. Cowgirlism.
Tom Robbins did no small job in convincing me of this very
decision.
And dammed right I left Africa to join the Wild Wild…easternmost
coast of Maine. There I spent hours with
cows and in hayfields and loved the way it made my body feel. But the day would end and I would feel that
missing piece. Quelque chose qui manqué. I was happy to move back to Africa and even happier to be with a someone who made me smile so much.
And who continues to do so. Through my current confusion and frustration I never am unappreciative of the fact that I get to spend each day with one of the best human beings I have met. But there continues to grow, nay fester in me this notion that I have yet to reach some unannounced goal. That there is some potential I am just out of reach of.
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