You can't go home again

Coming back to Virginia again has been a strange awakening. Logically, I knew that things wouldn't be the same - that while I was off having my adventures, my friends and family were having experiences of their own. People were falling in love and getting married, buying houses, having babies. Still, I wasn't entirely prepared for these new circumstances and their effect on my own sense of self-worth.

I'm in Williamsburg this week visiting my grad school friends. A year ago when I was here for a few days, I was staying in my old house with my old roommates, drinking beer and playing video games. The change is subtle this time. We're still drinking beer and playing video games, but we're doing it either from Jim's newly decorated bachelor's pad or from the home Marcia is making with her husband Dave. In the intervening months, the three of them have been working on their PhD's and have also started a company of their own with two others. They have office space and desks and version launching parties of their new software. In short, they seem grown up. Only a year ago, we were doing keg stands in the JAM house. Now they can talk about "increasing the value of the house" or "painting walls with more neutral colors". The good news is, they can still do keg stands. We've all just chosen not to. Even I have started to feel more grown up - as much as a Pokemon master can anyway.

While I'm immensely satisfied at seeing the success of my friends, it does sometimes make me feel like a giant loser. I know on a certain level that I gained more from my experience in the Peace Corps than I can ever possibly put into words. I am also becoming aware now of what I sacrificed. Yet I'm certain I would do it again in a heartbeat, so what I gave up really doesn't matter. My friends don't see me as a loser, not yet anyway! And both my former advisors, who I had lunch with yesterday and today, assured me that the right job will come along.

As for the experience I can't put into words, let me relay a funny story. A few days ago, I ran into a guy I knew only peripherally in grad school. He knew I was going into the Peace Corps and I saw him briefly last year when I was home. When he saw me this time, he greeted me with: "How was Africa?" It was an innocent enough question; he knew nothing of my circumstances, wasn't even sure which country I'd gone to. My answer was as ridiculous as the question asked. "Good," I said, with a nod. "Good." We both laughed at the situation. He realized it sounded just as silly as if I'd asked, "How were the last three years of your life?" What answer could possibly satisfy that? But at least he asked.

Again, I find myself taking comfort in my friends, who know me well enough to ask the insightful questions, or at least enjoy reminiscing about our lives before then. Then there is my Peace Corps support network, particularly the girls I traveled with. We are going through the same things at the same time, and there is solace in numbers. It's a pretty good life actually - for a loser. :-)