It's hard to put down roots when you never stay anywhere. I guess it's a good thing, for the most part, that I had them pretty deep to start.
It's the worst part about moving around and experiencing different things. I am missing something, somebody, and somewhere no matter where I am. I'm at home now with all the people I love most. But I miss my Katima-kids, India, and not knowing a broken heart. I miss hostels, La Rivera, Jewish hippis, and driving tractor. If I stayed on the farm, I wouldn't miss any of that. You can't miss something you don't know. Can you?
I make friends fairly easily. I can meet someone else with a backpack and carry on a conversation. People like me. I love getting to know someone with no preconceived opinions. Without a set idea of how I'm supposed to be. I enjoy keeping in touch with the people I've lived with. But, essentially, the only close relationships I have left are the ones I'm related too. And as strong and healthy as those are, I also miss having a best friend. Not the cool random kids who come by our house and joke with us. Not the past acquaintances I sometimes hang-out with when I'm around, or the people I still write to on facebook. Someone who calls me up on their days off. Who doesn't always agree with me, but knows what I think, and respects it. Who loves my letters, and takes the time to stay in touch. I miss staying up way too late because neither of us wants to go to sleep. Or dreaming of road trips, camp fires, and forming a band. (although I still have this with my amazing cousins and sibs).
I've had friends like that. Good friends. Friends I've loved with my whole heart. I don't know why I always lose them. It frustrates me to no end. But they stab me in the back, walk away, or move on. Because I don't want to? Do I try too hard, hold on to tight? Because God is trying to teach me something? Maybe I just need to learn to realize when it's time to let a good thing go. At least, if I get the chance to need to, again.