I'm back in Texas, and, well, I don't quite know what to say. I feel pretty terrified. I arrived to San Antonio at midnight on Tuesday, spent Wednesday in a bit of a jet-lagged haze, and had my grandfather's funeral on Thursday. The funeral was harder than I'd expected. All of my family was there, I was exhausted, and my mom was crying, which I hate to see. I'd been asked to read a piece that I wrote for my grandfather when I was 13, so I sort of tearily stumbled through it, sweating under the already blistering morning sun.
After the funeral I was bombarded with questions - "What are you going to do now? What's your five year plan? What are your goals? What are you going to do with yourself?" Huh? Um, well my answer is pretty unimpressive. I don't really know. I feel fairly certain that I was meant to come back. And I believe in Providence. And that's about it. I don't know what I'll do next, but I do think there is a challenge before me - the challenge of not knowing. Knowing isn't necessary. It's humbling, it's scary, and somewhere in there I think that it's really freeing.