Shape? Circle.

At around this time last year I was going through my interview process for my Alternative Spring Break trip having no idea what to expect.

Not getting my first choice of youth and education, I ended up volunteering in the poverty sector.. rural poverty to be exact.

 I thought this would be nothing new as both my parents grew up in the realities of poverty in very rural  areas of West Virginia. I grew up hearing their stories of scrounging for food "up the holler" and wearing hand me downs previously worn by their 8 or so older siblings. Of course these ideas were foreign to me, as I could never imagine not having any sense of individuality when it came to choosing your clothes or not refusing to eat something because you didn't like it. We were constantly reminded just how fortunate we are to have all that we do, but of course as any spoiled child, my parent's words went in one ear and out the other, and although I heard what they were trying to say, I didn't actually listen... as it was a reality I didn't want to know. I still continued writing my extensively long Christmas list and dividing my toys amongst my brother: yours, mine, and the unfortunate ours.

You would think that having moved less than a year before to this family with nothing more than a trash bag of my belongings, I would not be the materialistic, toy-obsessed child that my parents accused me of. Yet, there was an obvious reality to their words.

Volunteering at my service-learning site in Kentucky, right on the border of Virginia, I assumed it would be similar to these stories related by my parents or at least to the images engraved in my mind from summer vacations of my childhood.


And it definitely was in some ways... but at the same time there was something entirely different about this trip. My eyes were opened to the world of poverty in an entirely different way, as it was tragically personal. Stepping into those families lives and seeing the ways that money was handicapping them changed my views entirely. After that trip I realized that my passion was not solely working with kids, but something more.


Then of course time played it course. Days passed, Weeks passed, and that happy hero feeling dispersed and disappeared.


Temporary.


Short-lived.


Evanescent.


This same thing always happens. Summers in Africa: the happiness and faith that the kids bring, Skydiving: that feeling that you can do anything. Why must the best emotions be so fleeting?


I'm not sure what I'm trying to say...as I have know idea where I was going with this and my emotions are all over the place these days..


 As of now: I just want those feelings back.