I did not expect to be the kid who lives near the parents (especially given how far North these parents live). As the eldest of three, and thus the first to leave, I got quite adept at living several states (and the occasional ocean) away for roughly a decade. For this reason and many others, I always expected to hit the trail sooner or later and land in some Southern state where people have no clue that curling is an actual sport and not what you do to your hair on Friday nights.
But my brother is firmly planted back in St. Louis and my kid sister is headed to Texas for college, which leaves me, the former far-flung child, as The Kid That Lives Nearby. This role has solidified of late as I've accepted a new job that I can see being solid grounding for a career based in the Cities. No more poking around looking at jobs in Virginia, Texas, Louisiana, where I kept expecting to end up.
But when I accepted the job, I was surprised to find how happy I was at the prospect of life here. I have found true, sturdy, beautiful friends here, friends I'd hate to leave behind. And after years of living far away, there is something wonderfully warm and secure about living near one's family. Being able to stop over at the family house after church to play Scrabble, to be around for discussions on when we should put the family dog to sleep, to be a quick 20 minute drive from a spare washer/dryer and no judgment when I toss in muddy sneakers after a trail run...all small things, but important.
It is hard for me to imagine life here without my sister. She is, perhaps moreso than my parents, the reason Minneapolis seemed like a good idea four years ago. Having left for college when she was 5, I was easily tempted by the lure of teenage sisterly-ness. Funny, I came here in large part to be a part of the life she built, and in the process I accidentally built a life of my own.
Which happens to no longer be far-flung from the people who gave me life in the first place.
Life is a funny, glorious thing.
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