Every once in a while, I look around at my life and wonder, How did this happen? It isn't that I don't like my life. While I do miss Gone West City - the downtown parks (the downtown, period), the coffee and restaurants, my favorite people - I am building a life here in Universe City, and it is already fuller than the life I had there. I am filling it with the things I need and love.
And yet, every once in a while I read a blog post, I pick up a book, I pass a corner, I catch a smell on the breeze, I see a plane in the perfect blue arc of sky, and it transports me, and I wonder, How did I get here?
This wasn't supposed to be my life, you know. I was supposed to be traveling the world, feeling that ache of excitement that keeps you awake the night before a big trip. I was supposed to be living in warm, tropical places. I was supposed to be going to towns that have the sternest travel warnings from the State Department. I was supposed to be learning new languages and cultures. I was supposed to be far, far away from the boredom of life in a typical US American town.
If this wasn't supposed to be my life, if I miss that other life so much, why am I so happy here? And how is it that I'm happy here, now, and simultaneously I know that I have to go back to that life, that I will go back to it, someday?
You can't escape yourself, but there can be many homes that call you.
And yet, every once in a while I read a blog post, I pick up a book, I pass a corner, I catch a smell on the breeze, I see a plane in the perfect blue arc of sky, and it transports me, and I wonder, How did I get here?
This wasn't supposed to be my life, you know. I was supposed to be traveling the world, feeling that ache of excitement that keeps you awake the night before a big trip. I was supposed to be living in warm, tropical places. I was supposed to be going to towns that have the sternest travel warnings from the State Department. I was supposed to be learning new languages and cultures. I was supposed to be far, far away from the boredom of life in a typical US American town.
If this wasn't supposed to be my life, if I miss that other life so much, why am I so happy here? And how is it that I'm happy here, now, and simultaneously I know that I have to go back to that life, that I will go back to it, someday?
You can't escape yourself, but there can be many homes that call you.
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