Monday, February 27, 2006

Travels on a Sunday evening

Just back from Sunday evening at my sister's, and I thought: here I am, living ten minutes from my sister and her husband-to-be, only four hours from my parents, and perhaps ninety miles from the place to which my closest friend will soon move after several years far away, working at a lousy job which I still love in a city which, for all its faults, nevertheless has things of which no other city in the world can boast; and yet, here I am, thinking of packing it all up and moving to another city fifteen hundred miles away, because I have grown fond of that city through visiting it and the people I have known in it, who will soon no longer be there, but here, and because of the wanderlust: I have been here three years, and I feel the urge to move on.

And yet there is a sign in that city to which I may go, a green sign over the highway with the interstate shield and the name of yet another city on it. Beckoning.

And I wonder if, after a time in the new city, if the call of that other city will be too much and I will again pack up and move farther down that highway, away from all I have known and loved. And I wonder: what kind of a life is this, where we can do such things?

And what kind of a life is this where we do not?


Blogger Anon_e_mouse said...

You know, there's a cure for itchy feet... Gold Bond powder is available over the counter at any decent drug store :-)

7:47 PM  

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