It’s been almost a week and we’re just about settled into our new apartment in San Francisco. Getting used to apartment living will take some adjusting, but so far has been off set by the incredible location and ease of making our new place our home.
While I am enjoying getting to know our new neighborhood, and getting set-up with my new university, I am missing some of the comforts from home. I miss seeing my son light up when his grandparents come over, or when we head over to their houses. I miss the roomie kitchen and ample parking space that I enjoyed for the last year. And I miss the comfort of knowing if I need anything someone could be “right over.” Fresno and Clovis are certainly my consistent and timeless home, but today I miss another home too. I miss the home and community we made for ourselves in Syracuse. I miss it because one of my very dearest friends successfully defended her dissertation and is now officially Dr. Watson. I miss her. I miss the celebration we’d certainly be having together and the smile-crying that would surely be happening. I miss our kids playing with one another while we toast with champagne and all our other dear, dear friends!
Coincidentally, a few days ago I read an article about lives of academics and the difficulty of getting accustomed to friends moving away. It resonated strong with me since I knew my dear friend was preparing for her dissertation defense, and that I would not be there in person. Of course we talked, and texted, and messaged, but it’s definitely not the same as being there. Really being there. I’m not unaccustomed to missing the milestones of friends and family. In fact, I’ve often lived a long distance away from the people closest to me, but there is something particularly significant about missing the official proceeding of a dissertation defense. There is just something about that. Perhaps it’s because we became such fast friends. Perhaps it’s because many many of the people I was in the graduate program with became as tight as family. Perhaps it’s because we were all far from our homes and sharing struggles and successes with one another was our way of supporting each other even though we didn’t “have” to. We weren’t born into a clan. We formed one.
I never intended on moving so much. When I moved back to Fresno 15 years ago, I thought it was for life. I’m glad it wasn’t, but moving does come with as much trauma as it does reward. Our adventures are far from over and that makes me optimistic about the future. And, well, whether I could be there in person or not, Dr. Watson knows I was there in spirit and will remain so every day. Here’s to building a bigger clan.