Originally posted on Making a Difference:
The other day, a friend of mine expressed some good-natured job-related frustration, posting to his Facebook status that he would like to find a job that somehow would include “making (his) own hours, lots of time outside when it’s nice, and low stress.” And then he asked “Anyone have a job like that?” While my friends replied with helpful and well-meaning career suggestions such as hobo, moonshiner, freelance lumberjack, and Snooki, I sat back with the always-attractive openmouthed revelation look all over my face, thinking “Oh wow… I have a job like that!” And then of course I commented that he always could apply to go and teach in Georgia, which was mean because like most adults my age (who aren’t me), dude has obligations that keep him here. I mean, he could, but that feat would take some significant life-rearranging.
I feel that this reminder could not have come at a better time. Because now, as summer draws to a close, it has been two and a half long months, a lifetime and a world away, from Georgia. The problem is that it is so very easy to forget here. In my parents’ house in the comfy Washington, DC suburbs, Tbilisi and Georgia have started to seem very, very far away.
I’ve been home since the middle of June, and seriously I cannot believe that already the summer is almost over. These months have been one giant happy blur. I’ve told all my best stories and instructed friends on the proper etiquette for a traditional Georgian toast.