Here I am

Here I am.

A new place. A new life. Things are underway.

I’m riddled with questions. The most anxious question? What in the name of God have I done?

Three other people followed me across the country (again). For a job. In academia. Three other people who were settled and happy where we were. And now we’re here. Here we are. Where is here?

Here is different.


The ice cream social for the boys’ new school didn’t have ice cream. It had freezies. Solomon’s third grade class has 26 students. This instead of the 13 he had last year. Samson’s class is bigger too. New teachers. New school. It’ll probably be good. Maybe even great. But it’s new. It’s a change. Here is different than there.

Iowa City ain’t New York, but it ain’t State College, either. More traffic. More buildings. Different culture. Not sure what to say about that different culture, other than it is different. I’ll keep you posted.

I do know this: Samson thinks we live in a metropolis.

“Look at all the cars!” He says when we drive downtown. We drove through downtown a few weeks ago. On our way to one of the best wood-fired pizza places I’ve ever been to. Put that in the win column for Iowa City.

Samson enjoys the traffic. Put that in the win column for him, I guess.

My job at Iowa is different. I’m trying to figure out the English Education program. It’s kind of a crash course. New students, new course sequences, a new role. I’m not a hip new scholar anymore. I’m a seasoned program coordinator. With tenure. With gray hairs.

There’s responsibilities and tasks that are completely new to me. I’ve been teaching and writing and serving dear old State for seven years. I think I was pretty good in my old position. Others might disagree, but I stand behind my work. Now I want to become good in this new position. Or at least I want to be able to stand behind my work. Good is a subjective word. The learning curve will be sharp here. Hopefully I’ll be sharp too. I’m walking in with more questions than answers. Again, it’ll probably be good. Maybe even great. But it’s new and here continues to be different than there.

And I’m 42. And I want to be present for my family. I want to work and live in ways that don’t consume me. That don’t suck at my soul, drain my energy, and leave me wasted. I’m after balance. That’s never been a strength of mine. Setting boundaries? That’s terrifying to me. But I have to do it.

Wish me luck. I’ll need it.


Here is different than there. And I’m moving beyond all the “grass-is-greener” or “God-I-miss-home!” thinking.

I’m here. My family is here. Here is different than there. And now we go to work making home here. Making a new life. Things are underway.

I grieve what is lost and look forward to what is to come.

What else is there to do?

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