Hello/Goodbye

I've called two places home so far in my life. The interesting thing about these two places is that while they are in the same state, they could not be more different. As I prepare to move away from Lawrence, I have been trying to decide how I am going to say goodbye to a place that I have loved for six years now. But instead of writing what this town and the people here have meant to me, I decided that a better way would be to show you my last six years and what I leave behind, and what I look towards in the future.

I am returning to the family that let me move 300 miles away and never once told me I was making the wrong decision.

I say goodbye to the job I took three years ago, and the people who made that job one of the best places I have ever had the honor of working.

I leave a school and program that allowed me to make such great friends along the way and those who helped me make it through the longest year...

I temporarily say goodbye to the friends that I knew before arriving, and the many I met along the way.

I am thankful for friends made in the beginning....

Still putting up with each other in the end. 

I am grateful for all of these people and countless others who have come and gone from my life in the last six years. I will miss each and every person. As I pack my boxes and prepare to leave, I am sad to go, but again, I feel so very lucky to have attended the University of Kansas and lived in Lawrence these last few years. Because what most of these people don't know is that they weren't just friends to me.

No, they were much more than that.

I left home because I wanted to find something. I know, what an age-old saying. But it is true, nonetheless. I left because I thought getting away was what I needed to do with my life. I left six years ago, only to choose to return to that small town I thought I was trying to escape.

The truth is, I don't think I was trying to escape.

I have met a variety of people in these last years, yet despite their differences, all of them have shown me what I was looking for when I left. I wasn't looking for the meaning of life, nor was I looking to break free of the "small town effect."

I was looking for me.

What these people don't know, and I guess what I am telling them now is, they helped me discover the person I wanted to be. I know how cheesy that may sound, but it is the truth. I spent most of my life being someone I wasn't before I left home, and it took me a long time to figure out who I wanted to be.

I hope I chose right.

I have found myself trying to figure out what I can say to my friends when I get ready to leave this town, and to be completely honest, I have nothing. I know that it is not really goodbye, but I also know that life will never be the same again. They have stuck with me through the ups and downs that life has thrown at us - including my many ridiculous shenanigans - and now we stand on the edge of a new era.

I guess if I had to say anything, it would be thank you.

Thank you for the tears.

Thank you for the laughter.

Thank you for the lessons.

Thank you for reminding me that home isn't always a spot on the map.

Peace, Love, and Rock Chalk...forever. 

His, Hers, & Truth

I have a friend who occasionally quotes the saying, "There are three sides to every story: his, hers, and the truth." I always thought it was a lesson about lying, but recently, I've changed my opinion on this matter.

And it all started with a 4th of July story.

I called my dad and asked him what he and my mom did for the holiday. His story went something along the lines of this: "Well, we went out to the lake and watched the fireworks. Then we sat on the patio and watched the neighbors shoot off their fireworks." I accepted this story, and even found it cute that they did these things together and thought about how thankful I was that my parents still liked spending time together after 28 years.

Then I called my mom.

Her story went a little something like this (abridged version): "Oh lord, Chesney. I didn't think we were going to make it. First, it was this ridiculous back and forth about going, and then again about what car to take. The fireworks already started before we were halfway there. He moved the truck after we already parked, and when it was time to go, he drove without his glasses because he claimed he could see better without them!"

Cue my ridiculous laughter.

I love my parents, that goes without saying. From what I know of them, the "truth" of this story is probably a mixture of both their sides, as it usually is. My parents have never claimed to have the perfect marriage, but a strength of their relationship is their ability to mix two very different people into a couple that works. Dad likes to tell things straightforward, and Mom likes to tell it how it "really was". I don't know why it works, but it does, and who am I to question the fates?

They provide a great perspective to work with.

When it comes to writing stories, one of the most difficult things to do is write from the perspective of a person that you aren't comfortable writing. It would be easy to write a story with an all female cast because writing like a girl is not difficult for me, but that would also be a very boring story. (Come on, we all love boys in stories...they add the drama, right?) One thing that I loved about writing my story was that I got to experiment with several different perspectives, and I was able to create an ensemble of people that strengthened my story line.

Stories like my parents' retelling of their 4th of July help me with my perspectives.

I realize that the quote from the beginning really is true. I still think it is about lying, but I also know it is about the way people look at and view situations. As for me, I listen to stories for the emotions they can stir in a person. I think that it is important to hear all sides of a story because you never know what you are going to get from it. Who knows, a side may just end up written into one of my stories as so many perspectives have already been...

But only I know the truth about that.

Dad

I have missed Father's Day every year for the last six years. I miss it because six years ago, I volunteered to take part in an event that has both humbled and strengthened me as a person. I spend one week out of the year in one of my favorite places on this planet, and I have the support of one of my favorite people the whole way.

I go to camp.

Because it is located basically in the middle of no where, you can assume correctly that there is no cell phone service. So every year of those six years, I find myself searching for a spot that will give me a minimal amount of service to call my dad. As always, I tell him that I am sorry that I cannot see him on Father's Day, and like clockwork, he answers,

"It's okay. They need you more than I do right now."

My mom tells this story about meeting my dad for the first time. Let's just say it didn't go well. I have always put my dad on this pedestal of sorts, and I know that it is higher than it probably should be. So it is particularly hard for me to hear about how selfish or arrogant my father was at one point in his life. I have accepted it, and despite what I know of him now, I believe it. But, lucky for the world, he changed his ways.

Mom could probably take credit for that one.

I have only ever known the giving, nurturing side of my father. I owe my witty humor and winning personality to him, but there are so many things he has given me that he probably never thought I would inherit or notice. Like the way he can sit in silence with someone without needing to fill the space with noise, or the easy way he can fill a room with laughter by just saying one thing. Or how he can watch the same movie over and over without a thought.

Or how he can say something that makes you feel like you are doing the right thing.

I owe so very much to each of my parents, and they have both given me an equal number of traits I hold dear. They teach me every day what a struggle it is to be a human, but what a wonderful life you can lead when you overcome those obstacles. But my dad has this amazing ability with one-liners, and I'm not talking about comically. We all know he can do that. What I mean is that we can be having a casual conversation, and in the blink of an eye, he will say something that stops me in my tracks.

It makes me so thankful that he is my dad.

I am a counselor at a camp for children with cancer. I have learned to react a certain way when people find this out. I never want pity, and I honestly do camp because it makes me happy. Sure, it is sad, and I do wonder sometimes how I will ever get through that week, but I always do. I do because I grew up in a household that gave until there was nothing else to give. I get through the week because my dad tells me every year that they need me more. My dad, once so self-absorbed, has taught me one of my greatest lessons in life.

He taught me how to be selfless.

Happy Father's Day, Dad!

Boats

A few days ago, I was driving home and I received a phone call from an old friend. She asked me if I would like to go with her and a few of our other friends out to the local lake. Apparently, her brother had purchased a boat, and even though the wind was blowing 30+ miles per hour, I answered in the only way I knew how with my friends.

Of course.

Well, the water was freezing, tubing was kind of a nightmare in the wind, and we lost a window and a pair of sunglasses. But, we laughed more than we had in a long time, sang water related songs, and told stories of our past together that we thought had been buried in the murky water of the lake. As we sat on the water, I looked at my friend, now owner of a boat, and he looked at me. The words spilled out of both of us before we could stop them.

"This is really weird."

It's funny how some people spend their whole lives trying to run from becoming their parents. I'm not saying that my friends and I do or do not want to become our parents, but in that moment, it seemed as though we were on and eerie path of familiarity. You see, a few years ago, we were all children, riding on a boat with our parents. I can remember watching our families laughing on the boat, talking about everything and nothing at the same time.

I was back on that old boat, it seemed.

After a moment of hesitation, I laughed at our coincidental comment. He smiled brightly before following up with, "Who would've thought we'd be here? Look at us...we're adults."I shook my head and looked around for a moment. The old lake was the same as I had always remembered it; I watched my friend turn the boat and take off through the water.

Just like his dad used to.

I can remember my friends and I saying, "When I grow up, I will never do that like my parents." For the most part, we have all tried to stick to those decisions, but, we are still young. Our parents have given us more than we could have ever hoped for, and there is still so much for us to learn from them. We don't claim to have the wisdom of our parents, and you know, I don't think we really mind the moments in life when we realize and accept the one thing we thought we'd want to avoid.

Some part of us realizes, however big or small those parts may be...

Ah, hell. We're becoming our parents.

I'm A Big Kid Now

I have spent the majority of my life knowing what I would do, "when I grew up." Of course, 'knowing that' is not the same thing as 'doing that.'  Countless people told me that I would be a great teacher and that I should really think about becoming one. At first, I would shrug at them and agree, but after a while, it started to irritate me that so many people thought they knew what I would do with my life. So, naturally, I began to rebel at that notion.

For a while.

I left my hometown six years ago to attend a university that was as far away from there as I could get while still in the state of Kansas. I have many reasons for doing this, but the main reason is that I wanted to distance myself from what I had always known. I wanted to find what I was really supposed to do without being forced to listen to what other people wanted me to do.

I wanted to explore my options.

And explore I did. Everyone says that the first two years in college are worthless. You only take classes that are general requirements, which is true, but I don't think they are worthless. I enrolled in a wide variety of classes that opened my mind to new possibilities and taught me things that I never would have learned in any other setting. I can make a weapon from beating two rocks together like a caveman, and even tell you what type of rocks work best; I can tell you myths and legends of a indigenous Asian tribe; I can even balance a ledger.

All of these things made me realize what I would become.

The interesting thing about education is that it is a literal melting pot of people and cultures united for a common goal. Yeah, okay, that sounded like a super hero line. But in all honesty, to be a teacher, one must have an understanding of many aspect of life and learning, not just the piece that you are charged to teach. As I looked at the document to declare my major, I thought about all my classes, and a majority were literature and cultural classes. I stared at the transcript for a moment and a thought occurred to me.

Ah hell, Chesney. You did just what they said you would.

Needless to say, I declared to be a teacher. I thought about it for a long time, and I still wondered if I was just doing it because everyone told me that I would. But after all these years studying, I realized that I was wrong to think that. I love education. Clearly, I have been in school for 19 years. But in all honesty, becoming a teacher has been one of the greatest joys I have found in my life. I have spent six years learning and training to become something I spent my whole life waiting for. So it was a surreal moment when I read an email from a professor congratulating me on finishing and wishing me the best of luck in the future.

I laughed after reading it.

I couldn't believe that I had made it this far.

Good lord. They're actually going to let me teach.

Later

I do not like saying goodbye. If you could make a career out of avoiding this, I would be the President and CEO of that particular company. I'm not really sure why I am so reluctant to say goodbye to people because once it is all said and done, I'm generally okay with them being gone. I know, I know, I'm heartless. Say what you will, but I've come to terms with my rare ability, and part of it is that I don't ever say goodbye in the first place.

I like to think of life as a book. Life is just one long story that we tell to many or no people when the time comes. Growing up, I never had that many friends that I can remember. People say to me all the time, "Oh, that's not true, you had friends." No, really, I didn't. I was always that shy, awkward girl that people knew about but never acknowledged. Sure, I had a handful of friends but it wasn't until I was older that I realized how many friends I really did have. It took me leaving before I could appreciate how many people I had in my life for support, and it will take me leaving again to make me see the full impact I've had on a person's life and theirs on mine.

I have a friend who leaves all the time. Each time this has happened, I haven't been all that upset about saying goodbye. I'm not sad because I know that she will always come back. But she's leaving again, and this time, I know she isn't returning in a few months. For the first time in six years, we won't be living thirty minutes away from each other. I know this because I'm leaving, too, and I don't know if we'll ever live near each other again.

One of the beautiful things about life is that it is never predictable. Sometimes you can count on life being the same for a while, but eventually, it has to change. I've had the incredible privilege to have some of the best friends a person could ask for in life. It took me a long time to realize that it was okay to rely on people and not constantly be worrying about how you are going to do it alone. My years in Lawrence have provided a wealth of friendships in all facets of my life, and I don't know what I would have done without them with me along the way.

In a few short months, I will have to say goodbye. I will begin a new chapter of my life, and my few years in college will soon be a memory. A very fond memory, no doubt. Recently, I was forced to say goodbye. But, in true fashion, I refused to do so.

I stood outside my home as I watched my friends hug one another and say their farewells. I turned to my friend and wished her good luck once more, knowing that it was the same thing I said every time she left. As she turned to walk down the stairs I added, "See you later," because even though I know I should really say goodbye, I'm just not the type.

Because you don't say goodbye to the people you're bringing to the next chapter.

Hungry For Sports

Two years ago, I picked up a book in a store. I turned it over in my hands and looked at the cover for a while before deciding that I would buy it. I had heard about this book, but an unfortunate class experience left me knowing how it already ended. (Side note: I HATE when people ruin books) This book had a few followers already, but I never knew that a book about killing children would become such a sensation around the world.

Of course, I should have known. It was essentially a book about sports.

I wish I didn't care so much about sports. I wish I could be the person who spends the weekends knitting or planting flowers in the garden, never thinking about a team or sport, only about the project. Alas, I was never meant to be that person. I love sports. But, it is more than just love, I am passionate about sports. No, I was never very good at playing sports, but I am excellent at watching sports.

I'm also really good at yelling at the television.

I attend a prominent university with a great sports program. The inventor of the game of basketball lived and coached here, and the basketball program has a storied past. Sure, I love other sports, but nothing can take the place of basketball. I have spent more time yelling, crying, rejoicing, and cursing that team more than I care to admit. I always tell myself as March rolls around, "Now Chesney, you can't be as worked up as you were last year." But at the end of the day, I still feel like I'm going to have a panic attack and my voice is hoarse from yelling the last ten minutes of a nail-biter.

Funny enough, I sometimes have the same reactions with books.

This is where I plug the book, The Hunger Games, by Suzanne Collins. On the surface, one would think this is the worst book ever printed. It is about children thrown in an arena and forced to kill one another for food. Literally. I am not joking. It is a very popular book, and I can safely say it is in my list of top ten favorite books. I started to think about why I liked this book so much and why people are so obsessed with it as well.

My answer? Sports.

Sure, it's a bit of a stretch, but the events of this book are not too far off from a sporting event. There are competitors. There are uniforms. People watch and pick sides. The competitors fight. Someone wins. The only difference being, of course, in order to win you must kill other people. I honestly don't know what it is about the book, but I couldn't put it down. I read it straight through and even though I knew what happened in the end, I was fretting the entire way through it.

I'm pretty sure I live to feel anxious. I watch sports on the edge of my seat, and I fret until the buzzer sounds and a winner is announced. I read books so fast that I miss parts of it, but I can't help it because I have to know what happens or I might spontaneously combust. As the pages are turned and the seconds tick away, my heart pounds and my palms begin to sweat. I stand up and pace, and I can hear the crowd roaring in the background all wondering one thing...

Who is going to win?

Day By Day

I am a control freak. It is both a blessing and a curse for me. For the most part, my controlling tendencies revolve around planning days, events, outings, things of that nature. I have to plan each detail, even if it is just for me. I hate when people say, "let's just wing it." No, no, no. We are not going to just "wing it," we are going to plan it. My friends and family think I am a bit neurotic, and they laugh when I produce schedules for certain outings. I can't help it; I plan because I don't like the feeling of being out of control. So you can imagine my surprise when I was told nine simple words...

We are going to take it day by day.

There are several ways that a person can deal with bad news. Most, and I can count myself among them, cry about it for a very long time. Others, and I can also count myself among them, pick themselves up and cope with the bad news by telling themselves, "It could be so much worse." Then you have people that simply avoid the bad news altogether, and I can't say that I haven't fallen under that category at some point as well.

I can't control life, and frankly, I don't want to do that. My life has never been normal, and I should know by now that it never will be. My family and I have to deal with things that most people will never have to deal with, and while that is not ideal, I don't think I would want it any other way. We are stronger because of our trials, and we find greater joy in our triumphs because of it. We adjust to these changes not because we want to but because we must.

I have to learn to take it day by day.

I plan each day for my job, and I plan time with my friends and family. I have planned my life up until this point, and I have checked off each goal along the way. But I have realized that this is going to need to change. This new journey in my life cannot be planned, and while there are aspects that I will continue to control, at a certain point I have to let go.

There is so much to life that we don't understand, and I think that sometimes I forget that I can't know everything about it. I can curse the world all I want but that isn't going to stop it from turning. I could try to control it, but in the end I will be in a fight that I cannot win. But each day, I have the opportunity to wake up and make it the best that I can. I have the opportunity to live the life that I want to live. I have the opportunity to tell my friends and family that I love them, and those parts I can control.

And sometimes, every once in a while, I'm just going to have to wing it.

Puzzles

The best gift that I received this holiday season probably cost about $2.00, but it is a gift that I will never forget. It came in homemade wrapping paper, colored red and yellow with a Jayhawk on the front of it. When I peeled back the paper, I saw that it said, "To Cesney, I love you." Yes, my name was misspelled, but that made it even better when I turned it over to discover my present.

It was a Harry Potter puzzle. Put together and glued onto cardboard.

A few short years ago, my family was blessed with four new children. No, they were not infants. No, they were not strangers. Yes, they had a rough early life. Yes, it has been a challenge and will continue to be a challenge for their respective parents. But more importantly, no, they do not regret the decision that changed our family forever.

I don't get to spend much time with my cousins. I will admit that it is one of my only regrets in choosing to go to school so far away from home. I have missed out on the simple moments in my extended family's life and I sometimes wondered how that would affect our relationships later. But that all changed this Christmas.

Call me cheesy if you want to, but as I held that puzzle, I realized two things.

The first is that my cousin knew that I loved Harry Potter. I'm not even sure how he knew, perhaps someone told him, or the fact that I do nothing to hide my love could also be a factor. Regardless, the simple act of picking a theme for me that I love showed me that maybe I hadn't missed out on that much. That picture told me that he loved me, and despite our distance in age and miles, we would always share the bond of cousins who support each other.

The second thing I realized was the symbolism of the puzzle itself. Most of the puzzle was put together, but a couple of pieces weren't quite glued enough. As I put the puzzle back together the best that I could, it made me think of my entire family. We are all in our own different parts of the state and world, but as I looked at the individual pieces on the board it hit me. Puzzle pieces rely on each other to form the end product. The puzzle pieces are all individuals forming a larger part. No matter where my family ends up, no matter where we fall off to, we will always come back together like the puzzle. We will always be family, and we will always find a way back to one another.

Much like people, puzzle pieces are nothing when they stand alone. Each has its own pattern and shape, and it is impossible to know where the piece fits until you find the right spot. Sometimes, you try to force certain pieces to fit together, but ultimately, they belong in one place. The best part of putting together a puzzle is the very end. As you start to finish and you have only a few pieces left to go, you start to see what the creator of the puzzle intended. But it is only when you place the final piece in its perfect spot and you take a step back do you discover the truly amazing part.

All those little pieces came together to form a beautiful picture.