The very first word that I spoke as a 9-month-old wasn’t so much a word as it was a phrase:
“Hi there.”
Evidently, I skipped over the basics of “Mom” “Dad” “Sis” and “ball” and went straight to informal greetings. And I’ve been introducing myself every since.
I met my wonderful and recently wedded friend by randomly introducing myself at a Swing Club because she vaguely looked like a girl from high school that I didn’t even know that well but the “soul rejoices in the familiar.”
I met my recently wedded husband by introducing myself in line for a freshman informational meeting because, hey, he was cute, in my Old Testament class, and clearly interested in leadership. Can you say spiritual leader spouse material?
Don’t worry, I just thought he was cute at the time.
A few weekends ago, I headed back east to see that dear friend get married. Waves of nostalgia 
and longing rushed over me as I gazed over neat fields of Lancaster corn and farms. Was it really last summer that I lived and loved here? Why did we move to California?
I was caught between two Lands of Lonely. In Pennsylvania, I was with friends and families and humidity and all things home reminiscent. Yet I was separated from my forever love. At the same time, I dreaded returning to So Cal with all work and very little play and no friends. I started regretting all our decisions–except the marriage one.
But as I re-crossed the country for the 3rd time in two months, I realized that I’ve been looking for the wrong things. I’m searching for my childhood and college friends amidst strangers.
I’m going to stop searching for my past in the present.
Chloe J Sayers 