I am less than a week into being “home” in Livonia, and I had my first “I-wanna-go-back-to-school” meltdown. Yeah, tears and everything. I am 24 years old, looking for adventure and connection, only to be thrust back into the winding streets of suburbia, miles away from my friends, sister, and boyfriend. But, you have to hit your breaking point to put yourself back together, right? So, using my God-given optimism, I choose to sally forth, looking for adventure and connection in ::gulp:: Livonia.
For those not familiar with Livonia, it was named the whitest city in the United States over 100,000 residents back in 2001. It features countless subdivisions, but no downtown, and certainly no locally-owned anything (I may be exaggerating, but please correct me if I am wrong.) According to my mother, who moved her ealong with much of our aging population from Detroit during “white flight,” Livonia was built around it’s shopping malls and (perfectly zoned) industrial area.
Though I am no longer a short walk from a thriving, cultured downtown, a local coffee shop, or even a classroom, I vow to find the good in being home. Even though cat fur threatens my every wardrobe choice, and there is an endless pile of “college-to-home” items I have lugged from Mount Pleasant to be sorted, I refuse to let these months be anything but fantastic. Growing. A learning experience.
And, I finally get to teach in T-minus two weeks.
After 6 years of preparation.
That’s something to be joyful about, right?
(Me in 2004, right before our homecoming game, showing some pride for Livonia!)