Places

I am having another life crisis after looking at that Vermont position.

I really love Vermont. I have such strong New England ties, I love the Land and the people, I love the culture. It’s so free and liberal and open. I feel like if I could wrap all of the things that I think and believe into a bundle and fit them somewhere it would be into Vermont.

But then there’s Baltimore. How did I let Baltimore creep up on me? I would never have thought of this place as somewhere I wanted to live. Not like I think of Belize, Guatemala, Italy, Montreal, and Greece. Those places have always sat in the back of my mind like little maps. They are places that I Google every month or so hoping airfare will drop to $200 and I will suddenly have everything I need to just go.

I can guarantee Baltimore wasn’t ever a Google search before last March. Now I love it too. I attend United Workers meetings, and people know my name. I get cups of coffee with Important People at Cool Coffee Shops. I attend film showings and know the ins and outs of the free art movement. I know which Farmer’s Market stall sells the most delicious kale and am building up my rooftop garden from the plants sold by my favorite vendor.

I have a church. It’s not the edgy church that I imagined myself finding. But those feel so fake anyway. It’s big, and it’s small. We have a small group that does potluck brunches and takes hikes along rivers. I go there and I hear and I drink up what our pastor says. The music is full of earth and air.

So, I am torn. I want to travel. I want to see new people and new places. South America is on the menu, definitely. But I also want a home. My feet need somewhere to sink into. I need a little space of my own and a city, or village, to call my own. Here in Baltimore I pass people on the street and know them. They ask about me and we smile. I know that Red Emmas has the best Miso Soup I’ve ever tasted and that the happy hour deals on Sushi in this city can’t be beat. I know how to find cheap yoga classes and where to go for live music. I am excited about urban gardening and the Bmore Food Not Lawns movement. I know people. I am beginning to have friends.

Here I have been myself. I haven’t lied about Faith or Food or Family. I have laughed more than I ever thought I would. I’ve gone to lectures and met people and Done Things in ways that don’t feel forced or fake or Not Me. I know I couldn’t do that in Boston, and I know I couldn’t do that at Home. I’ve begun to Trust Myself.

And yet Vermont stands. It is itself and it is in me. It is Freedom and Food Justice and silly old tractors left out in the field. It is Family, which can’t be left behind. New cousins I haven’t seen and young brothers that are almost moving on. It is past troubles and it is my very first garden. So what do I do with that?

I will just throw out a million nets. Big nets that reach all the way from Peru to Nova Scotia, from Baltimore to Greece. I’ll wait until they fill way way up and then see what I’ve brought in. Who knows where I will be in August.