Above picture was taken by me this past fall, from the pedestrian path between the terminal and the employee lots at Indianapolis International Airport.
I've been here ten years now. Indiana, USA.
Never, ever thought I'd be here. It was in fact a plan of mine to NEVER move to the Midwest, since I foresaw myself having trouble dealing with the ideals, the religious elements, not to mention the aggressive disregard for my inherited political views.
Yup, it's true--I'm a New England snob. More accurately, a displaced Masshole. Unabashedly a Patriots fan, not to mention a Rex Sox devotee. (Had to hide my colors while I was out here.... this here is Colt's country.)
(I've mellowed in the last decade, mental illness aside. I swear.)
Talk about a culture shock. All I did was move 952 miles away from where I was born and raised, and it was like I was in a different country. Different accents, different vehicles, people even drove differently. And who the hell says "warsh" instead of "wash"? I knew intellectually just how big the States were, but experiencing such a severe culture shock really drove it home for me just how gods-bedamned our country really is.
Not all bad, though. Made some friends. Met my future husband. Got a job, and kept it longer than six months. Nine years, five months actually. But who's counting?
I have less than three weeks left here. Soon I'll be home. I left when I was 21. I'm now 31. I know it's time to go back, to start over from scratch, because no matter how, against all odds I came to love this place, I never stopped calling MA "home". That's how I know, now, when my world is crumbling, that I need to leave. Sure I can start over here, but I need the cleanest slate I can manage, and rebuilding bridges to the places I never stopped loving is more important to me than holding onto the remnants of my life here.
I'm still expecting to have a panic attack on moving day though. That's a given. I'm going to be sobbing as I drive that Uhaul away.