Home Again

We arrived home this afternoon from our much-anticipated trip to Colonial Williamsburg, whose "homeschool days" dovetailed perfectly with an annual family reunion over in Prince George County. So we stayed with family, attended the reunion, and then crossed the mighty James River by ferry (huge excitement to my children!) and drove into Williamsburg.

Oh, Williamsburg. 

I got up well before the crack of dawn one morning, bubbling with excitement.  Carefully dressed in my running clothes and crept out of the house, careful not to wake my husband, children, or my in-laws.  I drove to a street I know well. I parked a block away from campus. 

I stood in the quiet of early morning and looked out at the Sunken Gardens. 

I crept into Tucker Hall and visited every floor.  I ran my hands over brick walls. 

And then I did what I'd done a hundred times before, what I sometimes dream at night of doing: I turned around and ran from the Wren Building, down Duke of Gloucester Street, past Bruton Parish Church. I wove my way through colonial streets to the Capitol.  Then I ran down past the old gaol and wound my way through streets again,  nodding a hello to the Governor's Palace, and ending my run at the steps of the Wren Building. 

I got back to campus just as the sun, rising behind me, hit the bricks.

So many memories.  I spent four years here as a student at The College of William and Mary.  It seems like a lifetime ago.  Every nook and cranny of campus seems to hold memories.  As I ran through CW and down DOG street, I revisited those days.  Back then when I ran I was trying to outrun my anxiety; only occasionally did I actually run for the joy of movement. Back then my past and future seemed to intersect in a mysterious puzzle.  Who was I?  How could I cope with some of the pains of my childhood?   How did my past inform who I was becoming?

And where was I going?  What did the future hold?  What choices should I make?  Would I ever feel really well? Would I ever figure out what living was about, or how to live? What was, after all, the meaning of life?

I remember walking through campus and feeling ecstatically alive and young and full of promise and new hope.  I also remember feeling despondent and fearful and anxious and restless.

Spring always hit me with its newness.  I've never had springs like I did back then.  Spring was when I felt most hopeful.  My life was in front of me, a Great Unknown, but promising.  I can't describe the feeling of promise I had.  It invigorated me. I knew even then that the feeling was special, that it wouldn't be like that for every spring of my life.  I hope my children experience springs like that. 

I gave poetry readings.  I studied philosophy.  I worked at a candy shop.  I fell in love. 

 When I graduated from college I was engaged.  I was ready to leave school, ready to start my real life.  And yet even now, I dream of college. In my dreams I'm always running, just like I was then--running through town, running over brick walkways, running around Lake Matoaka. 

I realize now that I was running away from childhood, straight into the future where I now sit.  And that maybe I haven't felt intoxicated by spring in so long because those vague hopes are finally fulfilled.  I ran down the dream and the dream is so much simpler than I'd anticipated: a little house, a little family.  And faith!  Faith, the great surprise of my life, the rain of grace that I never anticipated.  Yes, faith is part of the dream, too. 

It was, and is, good to be home again.