Back home. Back in the city, in the rain, in the traffic. In the noise. Oh — the noise. I can’t hear my own thoughts. We are back and they want to lock us down and never let us move again. “You’ve done it already, now it’s time to settle”. What if we don’t want to settle? What if we don’t want to do it the conventional way?
And the guilt — oh, the guilt. My parents are not eternal, am I a terrible person for wanting to move far, far away, depriving them of their grandson? When it’s not even a necessity, just because I want to? Although, it is a necessity — to me. It’s vital to be in open spaces, to breathe — to not let myself be dragged back into the pointless routine. Routine is not bad, per se. It becomes bad when you don’t know why you follow it anymore.
Look at me now. First I was complaining because I was away from home. Now I am complaining because I am back home. So many changes, inside — but will they last? I hope they do. I like the new old me, full of dreams — a believer.
If I listened to my gut, I would not unpack and leave again — tomorrow, next week, soon. But I am tired. My son is tired. My husband and I need to figure out how to manage our finances. The only way we could think of was to stay put for a little while, in our comfort zone, to turn our ideas into reality. Is this still our comfort zone though? I am not sure anymore. But I am too tired to figure out yet another variable. So this is where I, we will stay — for now.
Like our good friend Gemma made us promise, we will keep the sun in our hearts, and the light in our heads. Until we meet again.
