mirror, mirror

I started this blog a few years ago when I was working as a waitress at a truck stop in Beresford, SD, dreaming that one day I would be able to attend graduate school.  I remember the uncertainty involved in settling for a restaurant job when I had a bachelor's degree in history.  I remember the awkward moments when my customers thought I was in high school.  I remember telling people I'd known my whole life that I hoped to go to graduate school for history.  I remember the hope contained in that statement, the dreams of a future career.

I never dreamed I'd end up here, at the edge of the continent.  I supposed I would make it into graduate school somewhere, but when I started this blog, I thought that would be in the midwest somewhere, preferably Illinois.  My world was so small; to jump out of the box was to move to Illinois.  One by one, PhD program doors closed.  It was February.  I found myself desperately searching for masters' programs with deadlines late enough to still apply.  I applied to three.  Wondered if all my dreams were for naught.  I made tentative alternate plans to move to Chicago and work as a piano teacher.

And then the floodgates opened.  I was offered four assistantships at three schools (yeah, don't even ask how that happened, but it did).  I chose Washington with the hopes of moving out here with friends, because there is no way I would have done it myself.

One series of unfortunate events led to another, and I found myself headed to Washington by myself.  My other grad school bridges had been burned, and Washington was all I had left.  I took the leap, and it changed me forever.

I arrived in a brand new city in September of 2010.  It was beautiful, more beautiful than anything I had ever laid eyes on.  I walked through that first month with my mouth perpetually gaping.  I lived in a way I hadn't ever lived before.  I was happy.  I was doing what I had wanted so desperately to be given the chance to do those long mornings serving coffee and pancakes at the truck stop, and I was in the most beautiful place on earth.

Slowly, I began to meet people.  I was blown away by the kindness of strangers.  I made friends.  I experienced so many new things.  And I became my own person.  I learned who I was and what I was about beyond the protective circle of home.  I began to think of Bellingham as home.  As year one slid into year two, I found myself coming into my own in a way that I had not anticipated.  

And the world once more began to beckon.  Like Pa Ingalls, I began to realize that I wanted to see more of the world.

So I applied for national park jobs.  It seemed hopeless, but I did it anyway.  Not knowing how many people I was competing against, I found rejection after rejection.  

But one interview came.  And that interview yielded a job.  

I don't know why...all I know is that somehow I was chosen for this job out of who knows how many applicants on a nation-wide job search site.  So I'm moving to Georgia in a month.  I'm sad to leave Bellingham.  It's been so wonderful to me, and the people here have become dear friends.

I'm a'goin' to Georgia, though, and I'm so excited.

Maybe someday I'll be back, B-ham.  I do hope so...you are the fairest city of them all.