I’ve written before about how life was easier in Abilene – it’s warmer, smaller, easier to navigate, cheaper to live there, etc. etc. etc. And we’d lived there for eight years, so we knew the terrain, literal and emotional. Some people really struggle in the West Texas desert, and the summers there are no joke, to be sure. But it’s where I’m from, and what I know, and lots of people I love live in those dusty towns along I-20.
Of course, while I was there I longed to break out of the safe cocoon, to see what the rest of the world held for me. But I’ve spent a lot of this winter wanting to crawl right back into that cocoon, missing ACU and Highland and Sunday nights at Lifeteam and Tuesday nights at Mezamiz with my girlfriends. I’ve shaken my fist at the winter, certainly, but what it really comes down to is this: I miss being known.
I miss Amber asking me about my weekend as I walk into the office on Monday morning. I miss hanging out in her office with Amy and Tessa, trading girl talk. I miss running into at least a few people I know as I walk across campus, dropping in to see Bethany and Kelsey in the Honors College, buying my stamps from Nita at the campus post office. I miss knowing the person on the other end of the line every time I answer my office phone.
I miss hugs from my friends at church, on campus and around town. I miss the inside jokes that come with years of friendship. I miss lunches with Lisa at Bogie’s, with Julie at Tuscany’s or Hickory Street, with Jeremiah in our little house on Sayles Blvd. I miss seeing people I know everywhere – at the grocery store, the mall, while eating dinner out – particularly at Los Arcos, we are all but guaranteed to see a familiar face.
Boston offers bookshops and museums, history and culture, public transportation and exciting new opportunities, for sure. And there are pockets of familiarity, such as Sundays at Brookline and gatherings with our Abilene crew. But I spend a lot of time feeling anonymous here, particularly on the morning commute, which I spend squashed into a subway car with lots of folks I don’t know. Abilene may be hot and dry and relatively unexciting, but I am known there. And I miss that feeling every day.
cakes, tea and dreams 
Once again, I love this post, Katie! I’m going to step up my prayers for the comfort of your spirit as you work to make new authentic community in Boston. I’ve always said that the thing that makes Abilene truly beautiful, is her people. I’ve absolutely treasured living here. We Abilene folks love and miss you!
A question: how long did it take to reach this level of being known and comfortable in Abilene? I will take a little longer in a bigger city.
Thank you for being honest here, although it makes me sad. I hope you get part of your adventurous, life-loving spirit back when spring arrives.
I know how you feel. I used to have a job I was very proud of in local government. Wandering around the buildings, people would come up to me because I could help them, and I used to be able to be involved with all sorts of interesting things. Since I’d trained around 700 of the people, quite a lot more people knew me than I could recognise !
Since leaving there I found it harder than expected to get any similar sense of connection. Each new contract job has involved going through the stage of being the new boy – and often ended before getting through this.
Moving to a completely new area takes guts. It will get better over time, especially if you make the effort to put yourself out there and join those communites. I don’t think there is an easy way. If you find one, tell us all !
Good Luck.
Just remember that even though you are not as known, there is so much excitement in all of the things that you don’t know about your new locale either! In the end, you will grow and flourish and… be known once again. Coming from someone who has been there, keep holding on!
Once when my parents were away from their hometown, they both broke down into tears when the theme song of Cheers came on the TV late one night! “Sometimes you wanna go . . . ”
I think this is what will be so wonderful about eternity. We’ll all be home. Together.
Me too.
Love this.
I thought “how cool” when I noticed a comment about someone else breaking down over the theme-song from “Cheers.” Then I realized the comment was from our daughter.
We actually ended up making a decision to move home after that moment, and we are so glad we did! Twenty years later, we moved away for real. Now, we sing that song about our new community.
oooh… I am feeling this right now. Funny thing is, I’m wanting to be back in Armenia, a place I will eventually (am doomed to?) leave. I’m ready to fall into PLACE.
This is a beautifully-written post about the joys of familiarity. We hear a lot about the beauty of the open road (which I have humbly known and in which I firmly believe), but the delight of familiarity is often unsung. I relate to a lot of what you wrote; ironically, it is Boston’s familiarity that I miss and it is the hug of my community there that I crave. I admire how you were able to shed light on emotionally difficult terrain and hope that you find little intimacies and ways to be known ahead of you soon.
Oh, friend. I wish I could have you here a while longer, give you some tea and settle down into one of our old coffee nights before sending you out into the big world again. May Boston’s charm grow for you in such a way that you are less anonymous. Be brave.
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