Last night, I took an eight hour bus ride from Chicago to Minneapolis to come home for the holidays. I love being home for so many of the usual reasons: I’m able to spend time with my family and childhood friends, I can take a break from the stress of school and work, and I get to enjoy the luxuries of free laundry and home cooked meals. However, one major thing seems to be missing from my list. Home doesn’t quite feel like home. I can’t shake the feeling that I don’t feel as comfortable, or as myself, as I do in Chicago.
I have always been drawn to big cities—the dirtier, the crazier, the better. Cities seem to pulse with a desire to always be working toward the next big thing, a characteristic I value within myself. The bright lights fill me with excitement, the noises with anticipation. Everyone I meet in cities becomes a role model, because I know they too are each driven by some unique goal.
I have learned more about myself in the past year and a half than at any other point in my life. I could attribute this fact to having started college, moved into my first apartment, and learned to be on my own, but I really believe the city itself is to be blamed. I grew up with the desire to Get Out, to Move To The City, and I accomplished that goal.
However, along with this revelation comes a new fear: what if I outgrow Chicago too? In high school, I developed an appreciation for Minneapolis that I had never felt before, only to lose it to this bigger, crazier, city. What happens when I graduate, and I become consumed with an entirely new need to find my place in the world? It has always been a dream of mine to spend a few years in New York after college. If this dream comes true, will I lose the feeling of home I have for Chicago, like I lost the feeling of home I had for Minneapolis?
I mentioned earlier that I value my desire to always be working toward the next big thing. It’s possible that I’ll never be totally satisfied with where I am, when I know something bigger is out there. But I have to embrace my inner wanderlust, and know that if this desire is allowing me to constantly grow, it’ll be the driving force making me the best person I can be. After all, that’s what it’s all about: moving out, moving on, moving forward.
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ELIZABETH GAUGHAN
FRENCH PRESS 