My last day in Delaware.

Per usual, I am totally unprepared for departure, and so I’m going to write as a means of easing the realization. I’ve noticed that everything I do is somewhat cause-and-effect, and that blogging/journaling has ultimately, over the years, been one of the most frequent effects I’ve referred to—for anger, joy, sadness, and like now, bittersweet nostalgia.

Do I remember when I moved here? A month shy from hitting five years old, my only concern being the parakeet we lugged cross country in the seat of our beat-up, white Mazda. Perusing Borders during the hours when we weren’t looking for housing, and accidentally stealing Lindt chocolates, thinking they were free. Finding J, A, and M, my first friends here, and spending hours scurrying over to their adjacent apartments and playing at church. Weekly trips to Longwood Gardens, which taught me too many Latin flower names, and then moving to the house we’re in now. Piano recitals and jitters when heading to UD for exams, sledding down the hill in my backyard come winter, making real fires on occasion. Waking up late every day for middle school and spending hours after school at Honor Band rehearsal. Draining my brother’s iPod batteries from listening to Starting Tuesday and Aly & AJ on the coach bus, en route to Hershey Park/New York City/Disney World/Montreal. My entrance exam to Charter, finding out I was accepted, screaming; taking the placement tests, seeing all 5s on my initial phasing letters, screaming; taking my first AP courses and failing Calculus, much to my father’s amusement (and more screaming). Friday afternoons and Sunday mornings spent with my favorite people on earth, learning more about myself, asking for a study Bible on my birthday by my own initiative, learning how to read and study in a manner that fits myself. Summers spent in Pennsylvania, New Jersey, West Virginia, New York, Connecticut, New Hampshire, Vermont, Nova Scotia, Haiti. Being driven around town for years, and this year driving others around the city.

But always, always returning home to the 302; 19707. My perfect comfort city; a place with four legitimate seasons, tax-free shopping, safety, convenience, and practically every memory I can summon. Constantly deemed the most boring place alive by many, many people I know…but the only place where things feel right and in place for me. The only place that is home.

It’s so strange that God has wired each of us to respond to a ridiculous amount of emotions. Right now, the only thing I can focus on is that I have no idea what the next four years will bring, and that this is the biggest step I’ll have taken until graduating from university. That the only thing I can do is surrender and trust in God; that all my seven-whatever years of detailed planning falls apart when I step on the plane tonight/tomorrow morning. I’m in the same spot as every other person starting college. I have no idea.

But that’s okay. Since He holds my future, and time has shown me that perfectionism and obsessive compulsive tendencies can do nothing to hinder the blessings and sufferings that are coming my way. That I’ll always mess up, and that God’s grace will always act as a shroud around me. That I’ll be okay.

Time to pack.