Visit to the Past

     It seemed every day I worked I got asked to work more. Something I never mind, as I love it, I get paid for it, and it keeps me busy. Day after day, I spent hours serving food and pushing carts. Saturday kicked off round two of working for the week, starting at 8:30 and ending at 2:45. Many times I work, working out isn't an option. It's an extremely physical job, and I just put working out off for the day. Not Saturday; Saturday I went from work, to do legs. After spending an hour rocking out to Macklemore and Ryan Lewis, I sat down to take in 20 pages of "Outlaw Platoon" before running off to Chiptole, then straight to the bowling alley for 2 hours of craziness. Already exhausted from the endless day, I ended up spending 3.3 hours on the phone. While I thought Sunday wasn't going to be stressful or busy, the day still looked daunting. 6:00 came early after hanging up at 1:37. I woke up, and continued to read until my psyche could handle movement. After breakfast, I fluffed and folded my clothes to pack the suitcase I'd waited 5 months to pack. The suitcase that brought me hope, that allowed me to breathe, that led me into the sky, and that held the promise of unconditional love. The suitcase that was a secret to the world.
     After finishing gathering my daily life into a bag, I headed out for one.... or two... last quarts of ice cream with Jake, one of the guys I stayed with when I visited Oregon originally last year. Upon finishing my chocolate soft serve, I headed home to change and get in my last bout of arms and cardio before my last work shift of the year. As I felt discouraged by weak arms, I couldn't help but find comfort in the empty gym, and the music providing the oomph to push through.
     I went downstairs to join an army of strangers in some Sunday night ass shaking, when I was greeted by a short, tan, built Spanish man. Sergio and Natalie are two I've known since the summer, and have come to grow fond of as I see them quite often doing Club Dance. A familiar face and a hug is about all it takes to make a place home. I was exhausted by the day and the day prior lending little sleep. My shoulder started to cramp, and I tried to think up excitement towards the afternoon arrival to my old home. To my advantage the instructor messed and stopped 10 minutes early. Usually, in my mind, I'd be kicking and screaming as I'd been gipped 100 calories of cardio for the day, but not this Sunday. I headed home to grab some grub before heading to work to serve a midnight breakfast to supposedly studying students. Refusing to let the tired show come midnight, I appreciated that I hadn't had to spend my night at home waiting for the next day to arrive. As I finished every task appointed to me at 1:10 Monday morning, I knew sleep wouldn't come easy.
     1:20 I walked into my room, set my alarm for 3:15, and laid there trying to quiet my mind. An hour and a half after dozing off, I woke to see 3:06, and knew not only did I have a long day ahead, but I had people waiting for me with open arms. I showered, packed the car, and headed to the airport, dog in tow. I arrived about a hour before my departure, mildly nervous I may have just caused myself to be late. I hugged my roomie, paid for the dog, and headed through security. As I pulled him out, I saw the sheer petrification strung across his tiny white face. I knew this day wasn't going to be much easier for him than it was for me. I attracted attention at the gate when my bag started to bark, making a few friends all waiting to get to their destination. After landing in Denver, I began an extensive search for a puppy restroom. After finding it, and him denying that it was good enough to be used, I had to re enter though security. I don't mind security. They're doing something to protect me and my fellow Americans as best they know how. However, in that moment, I didn't want my $2.00 bottle of water emptied, and I didn't want to search for my ID and boarding pass again.
     Through exhausted eyes, I glanced around, wondering how many people noticed I didn't want to be in that line. As I came out the other side, I re entered the train to head back to the other side of the airport, in hopes of finding a snack before stepping back onto a plane. To my surprise, all the stores sold the same snacks - none of which had protein bars.
     After being seated, I noticed a mild disturbance by a man standing in the isle of the aircraft. Staring, then ignoring, the dazed looking man in a rust plaid shirt, sat down next to me. Moments later, asking if I was ready for this (referring to the flight). I entertained interesting conversation with the man about half the flight, reading in between conversations. After landing, I wished him luck on his endeavor, and headed to pick up my bag, feeling sad that I showed no excitement to be home, and couldn't even understand I was about to see my family. The day I arrived was a surprise to most, therefore I had a friend pick me up at the airport and drop me off at my house. Every hug I received that day, was the kind of hug you could fall asleep giving. Tight, long, emotionally charged. Some hugs didn't do justice and more than one occurred.
     Since my arrival, I've only been two places - the grocery store and the gym. I've seen almost everyone I want to make sure I see, in just those trips. I spend time reading, lifting, and dancing. I'll branch out my destinations eventually, but I'm enjoying the lack of work, the lack of busy, and the joy in the smiles of those I encounter. I wait most excitedly to see the rest of my family, whom I've not seen in 6 months and not really been in contact with. I'm revisiting those from my past life I feel, and I am so glad I'm here getting to do so. I'm easily reminded why I miss it, but I also can identify what's nice about where I live now.