While my time living in South Carolina was fulfilling for me, I could feel even as soon as this past fall that it was only a temporary part of my life. This was difficult to explain, as I had developed my community and job there in Charleston over the past two years. However, for once, I knew exactly what I wanted. I have friends that live all over the world and are spread across the United States. But most of my family lives in the greater Cleveland, Ohio area. Who in their right mind leaves a vacation spot to return to the banks of Lake Erie? Me. And I was proud of it, because I wanted to leave behind my beach town life to return to my roots. The idea of having a home base, with the capability of making trips to see my out of town friends, made me feel a sense of contentment that I looked forward to. But it still meant transition, and transition is no Mother Teresa.
As a teacher, it was especially hard for me to say goodbye because of the students. That’s me romanticizing my experiences in the classroom a bit, but nonetheless rings true. What’s more, friends in Charleston were my coworkers, which was a big part of why my life there was both purposeful and fun. It was difficult to imagine transporting out of a place that where I felt so supported.
Yet once I had made the decision to come back to Ohio, I had peace about it. There were times of doubt, especially when COVID happened and I was doubtful of finding a new job (read: in a full-fledged panic applying at all hours of the day for positions ranging from executive assistant to librarian), but overall I had a sense of feeling right about where I wanted to be. Even now it is sometimes sad for me to think about all the ways that my life has changed, but I never feel regret about the past. I feel excited about what the present and future hold for me.
I had already made the decision to come back to Ohio before I knew where I would be working or living exactly. In all honesty, I had a hard time accepting that there might be a period where I would need to be dependent on my parents again for support. The fact that they offered it with open hands was such a blessing, but I didn’t want to have to need it. I was eventually able to move past this and accept the position I was in. It would be much easier to move back home than frantically looking for a new apartment to get into directly, especially without knowing my job as of yet.
Summer came around and I had finished the school year in Charleston, although it was different because of COVID. We had a drive-thru parade at the school where we were able to hand students items from their classrooms and lockers and to wave them off for a happy summer. I had so much fun seeing the students and families, and many of them said goodbye to me with words of encouragement and gifts that blessed me. They wasted no time, either. The first car that pulled up had me suppressing tears because the mom locked eyes with me and told me all the good things about me.
Overall, the parade gave me a sense of closure about finishing the year. Then was clearing out my classroom, which turned into a sentimental task alongside Anna, who I shared the space with for two years. Leaving the school building for the last time was surreal, but I knew that I would always be connected to that place and the people who came with it.
In June, I had much more free time to spend worrying that no schools would still be looking to hire teachers in the fall. This snowballed into my next theory that even if they were looking that every one of my cover letters had been lost to space and time in the depths of spam inboxes. I was applying to jobs left and right and getting radio silence. Soon enough, I got in contact with a school about an hour and a half away from my hometown. I enjoyed the interview so much that I felt this had to be the right place. The area the school was located in, Ashland, Ohio, was a place I had visited several times and always thought was charming. They offered me a position, and I accepted gladly. God was caring for me by opening clear entryways for me to walk through when I least expected it, and then also launching me through them before I had any time for doubts to surface.
Once I had taken care of all things school-related and gotten hired at a new job, I had about two weeks to focus solely on packing up my apartment. I was proud of the work I did by creating a schedule for myself and sticking to it. I mapped what would go in my car versus on the truck trailer, and it all worked out according to plan. On the last day before my move, a 22′ trailer was dropped off at my apartments for me to load up. I wasn’t using the whole thing, just the space I needed, which was equivalent to a whopping 1.5 rooms worth of possessions. I had to load it up, and then the company would come back and haul it off for me. Thankfully, I have a quality roommate and group of friends that were willing to help me out with the task of loading all my belongings in casual Charleston 90-degree heat.
Let me take a moment to describe to you what sweaty work it was. DryFit technology was put to shame. Because in all my years of physical activity, I have never, ever (and I never say never ever) been sweatier. And I’m generally a sweaty person. Walking outside in that heat, mixed with the added humidity and direct sunlight, you would sweat before even moving. On top of that we had a flight of outdoor stairs to carry all my stuff down. Then was getting into the truck by traversing the plank-like ladder that connected the trailer to the ground. Then was going back up the stairs to grab more stuff. We drank water between every trip to stay hydrated. We were all sweaty, and panting, and some of us had a thin layer of dirt sticking to our legs from the bottom of the trailer.
The sweat paid off without the need for any blood or tears, and my room was completely empty at the end. My closet was stashed with everything I would take in my car the next morning. We ate pizza on the floor to celebrate. Saying goodbye to my friends after that was another surreal moment. I was leaving, and my life was changing. I let myself feel the exhaustion after that full day of physical work and emotional goodbyes. Like I said, transition is not super charitable.
The morning of my last day in Charleston, my main focus was on loading my car and cleaning. I allowed myself the full morning to work on this task before leaving around noon to drive up to Richmond, Virginia, to stay with my friend Lacy there on my way up to Ohio. It felt satisfying to finish the work I had started yesterday (albeit with tender limbs) and to make my leaving feel official. It was strange to hug my roommate Juliet goodbye and know that it was no longer my apartment that I was leaving.
You should know (or maybe you shouldn’t, but I’m sharing) that my guilty pleasure album for road trips is Kiefer Sutherland’s Reckless & Me. I’m not even a country music fan necessarily, but it’s a tradition that I have for myself now to start off any long journey by listening to that album. It just makes sense to me for some reason. So, the song “Open Road” rang through my speakers as I drove past the palm tree lined streets that I was saying farewell to.
But good things lay ahead. Lacy was waiting for me in Virginia, and my family was waiting for me in Ohio. I couldn’t wait to start this new part of my journey.
Written by Hannah 