me

I was walking down the long path from the train station, lined with massive maple trees and street lamps surrounding me in a warm yellow glow. Walking with my head to the ground, thoughts on my work, food, people I had just spoken to, I suddenly became strikingly aware of each step I took, feeling beneath my black buckled shoes the crunch of the fallen leaves. Inhaling of the crisp autumn air and feeling it travel down the back of my throat, my lips curved into a smile.
"There you are, " I stopped.

In that moment I was taken outside of my life here. A flash of memories came to me from Stubenvillle, Tulsa, running around with my sisters, going to elementary school, high school, my family.
"How are you?" I whispered. Looking at my hands, the same hands the sifted through the piles of dirt at four, five years old.

In a brief moment, I was reminded that I have a whole history outside of my life here, things that have shaped me into the woman that I am. My family, my faith, my friends. It is so easy to loose yourself in this place; so easy to focus on my present surroundings, my future, and the women that I am trying to become, that I have forgotten about the things that have made me who I am.
I continued to walk, conjuring up old memories.

This past Thanksgiving I was able to go home just for a few days. The night before I was to journey back, I sat in my old room and went through piles of old pictures and journals I had written.
One entry went like this:

Dear Jesus,
I am just so angry today. (The next half page was filled with furious scribbles with a thick line of lead that only comes when you press upon the page with great force)
There, I had to get some of it out on paper.

I laughed and laughed when I read that. The same anger that was so present in me as a little girl, has manifested itself into a great passion that I consider one of my best qualities.
How good God is, sending me little reminders along the way that not only is the world bigger than this place, but there is also so much more to me than the Sarah that is walking through the halls of Swarthmore each day.