Fear and Love

I sat on my window seat and stared at the park across the street from my house. It was a pretty park, and growing up across the street, I knew it well. There were several types of trees, evergreens, maples, and the kind that have purple leaves and have flowers that smell like fresh corn tortillas in the spring. I didn’t know the name of those, but since I was a little girl they had been my favorite. I remembered as a little girl running over to the park and lying on my back under the trees, letting the flowers that fell off the trees cover me. In my head, if I stayed still long enough, they would completely cover me, but with my luck, every time I got close the wind would blow sending the blooms everywhere. The city had put in a new jungle gym in last year while I was away at my second year of college, and I was saddened when I drove up to my house and saw that the wooden structure I was accustomed to had disappeared. My mother had tried to calm me when I came inside with my bags, tears in my eyes. ‘It’s all part of growing up, sweetie. Things change, don’t let it get you down.’ She was right, but it didn’t make the realization any better. It had been happening continuously since graduation, and you’d think I had gotten used to it by then, but no such luck.

I watched two children chase each other around the jungle gym, while their mothers sat on a bench chatting away happily. It was a peaceful view that I had grown accustomed to after my 20 long years here in Oregon. One mom threw her head back in laughter; wisps of her hair fell out of the loose ponytail and whipped around her face. Her companion giggled also, and continued with her story. I imagined they were gossiping about our neighbors, American Idol, or the latest celebrity make-up/break-ups. People weren’t very original here, and after spending two years away at college, coming back was like a wakeup call – a smack in the face, really.

I had done a lot of growing up, and I hated to admit it, because I had always, and will always call this place home, but people were just so close-minded. So ignorant. I had wanted to go back since the moment I stepped on the British Airways flight back to Portland, over two years ago. England. It was beautiful, so beautiful. There was so much history, it was awe-inspiring to me. Even in the heart of the biggest city on the island, there were immense lawns of green grass, ponds, and streams, exotic flowers, and even palaces and statues of gold. (And that is just in Hyde Park!) And the people were so kind. Unlike people here, who were oftentimes too involved in their own lives to take two seconds to hold open a door for someone, the people I had encountered in England were so different than what I was used to. Not even one hour into my trip on the foreign soil, a gentleman who was surely busy, in business attire complete with briefcase, stopped short on his walk to the bank to offer to take a picture of my friend and I together in front of telephone booth, as he insisted it was “infamous and necessary for all visitors”. I smiled remembering the man, and made a mental note to visit the booth again and take a picture for my friend, for it had always been our favorite shared memory from the trip. I was leaving in two days, and I knew I would miss home, and all the people I would leave behind not only in Grants Pass, but at my amazing university, Mills College.

Mills was a big reason I need to get out of Oregon. It changed the way I viewed a lot of things, mostly by opening my eyes to what is really going on in the world. You see, Mills College is a historic and prestigious all women’s college in Oakland, California. It is a fairly liberal school, and my fairly I mean you would be hard pressed to find another school that is as insanely open-minded as Mills. I mean, where else can someone attend a women’s college, and yet insist on being called he? I’m sure you see what I mean. Now don’t peg me just yet as some naïve hick, turned hippie liberal lesbian… because that is certainly not the case. I have always been an open-minded creature; it is how I was raised. I was just so happy in my own little world, that I never noticed the ignorance, greed, and hurt going on around me. Most people might hate the thing that shattered their perfect world, but not me. I embraced it, and I was so thankful for it. It forced me to get out and explore the world, something I have always yearned to do, but never saw the necessity for.

All of that said, I am absolutely freaking out right now. I am only 20. How can I be expected to make the right decisions concerning my life? What if this is all some huge, tragic mistake? What if I hate it in England and everyone hates me? What if they are only nice to tourists, but hate the Americans that encroach on their space and attend their universities? I am in full on panic mode. This can’t be right. England? England? Like, as in “across the pond”, on another continent, almost halfway around the earth from home, England? No, no, no. This is a mistake. This is wrong. Two days? Gone for seven months? What the hell was I thinking?

“Molly?”

I heard my door creak open, and I turned around quickly to see my best friend Aimee standing timidly peeking through the gap between the door frame and door.

“Hello, my friend.” I smiled at her, glad for the interruption from my frantic thoughts.

“Are you okay? Do you need any help packing?” she sat on the end of my bed, moving aside my space bags, and peering around at the clothes strewn across the floor, and the open, unfilled, suitcase next to my desk.

“Erm, yeah. I’m having difficulties. To be honest, I don’t know if I can actually do it.” I looked guiltily at her.

Aimee had been the one to give me the push I needed to actually apply for the study abroad program, and she helped me convince my parents that I should go, once I had been accepted into the program. I felt like bailing out now wouldn’t just be a letdown to me. I would be letting her down, too. Aimee had wanted to study abroad, but her parents couldn’t afford it and neither could she with her measly salary and tips she earned as a waitress at the restaurant housed inside The Riverside Inn. I felt really bad for admitting what I was about to, but she was the only person I could admit my worries to. I hoped she would understand, but I didn’t hold my breath.

“You can’t pack? Dude, I am the packing pro. Let me at these space bags and some piles of clothes and we’ll be done in no time!” she grinned as she hopped up and started making sense out of the random things on my bed and around the suitcase.

“No, Aimee. It’s not the packing. It’s… the trip. I can’t do this. I’m not ready. This is a huge mistake.” My gaze returned to trees, and the park outside my window. “I just, I don’t know. I feel like this is such a huge step. How do I know that this is right? I mean, sure, I want to see the world… but I’ll be leaving so much behind. And this is no three-week trip after graduation. This is seven months away from home. This is seven months away from everything I know! If I am going to be honest with myself, I am terrified that I won’t be able to get through the semester. Not without all of you.” I turned back to Aimee so I could gauge her reaction.

The hurt in her eyes was clear. I felt absolutely horrible because this was all she had ever wanted, and here I had it, and I was on the brink of throwing it all away.

“Molly–” she began.

“Shit, I’m sorry Aimee. I know how badly you want this. And I feel so shitty for saying this to you. I am just scared. I just– ”

“No Molly, shut up and listen to me.” Her eyes had suddenly gone from sad, to fierce. “You are over thinking this way too much. I know you, and I know that I am not the only one who wants this. I see it in your eyes, in your behavior. You need to get out of here, to see what else this world has to offer you. Because you sure as hell aren’t finding it in Oregon, and it wasn’t presenting itself in Oakland either. And I know you are nervous, and scared. Who wouldn’t be? You are about to go hundreds and thousands of miles away from home for a very long time. But I know that deep down this is the right thing for you to do, right now.”

She came over to the window seat and sat next to me. I knew she was right, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going to happen; something bigger than me.

“Do you remember when we used to drive up to Crater Lake to camp, and we always listened to Crash Test Dummies?” she smiled as she turned to face me.

“Yeah,” I laughed. “Those drives always make me think of Vegetable Thins. I was eating that the first time we drove up there, when we visited the cavern.” I smiled at the memory.

“Okay, well remember that one song, it goes, ‘How does a duck know which direction south is? And how to tell its wife from all the other ducks?’ And remember how we had that long, drawn out conversation about fate, and decisions, and God and everything in between? Well, that is how I see this. It’s not something you can consciously think about. It’s a feeling… you just know, in your gut. You are my best friend. We’ve grown up together, and I’m willing to say I know you better than I even know myself. This is right for you. I feel it.”

Damn, I knew this girl was my best friend for a reason. She was totally right! I felt uneasy still, but I placed that feeling as one of not knowing all the good things that would come of my trip, instead of the bad ones.

“’When everything seems planned out, when everything seems nicely planned out… well the human race will come and smack your face.’” I sang the chorus of the song to her and she knew she had done her job, and rid me of my doubts.

“Your mother was right. She called me, you know. About a half hour ago. She said she thought you’d be freaking out right about now.”

“Ugh, I hate how well you guys know me! But I am glad.” I leaned over and hugged her. “Well, let’s get down to business, shall we? You still up for helping me put all this,” I motioned to the mess in my room, “in here?” I finished, pointing extravagantly to the suitcase.

“I’m game. Let’s do this!”