u2october's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It’s Something Unpredictable, But In the End It’s Right Why does it get harder for me to leave every time I come back home? Why do we romanticize due to sense of place? I think that might be a rhetorical question. Early in the evening, I looked out over the lake as the evening sky softened with the setting sun like a melting popsicle and felt the gentle breeze on my wrist like an old friend tapping me on the arm to tell me “This is what you’ve been missing.” I know she’ll never let me move the kids across the country, and I don’t begrudge her as I know I wouldn’t want that either. It does my heart good to hear my kids ask if we can move here. The juxtaposition of the warmth I feel when I’m here in spite of some of the less than stellar things I experienced in my youth is perplexing, but is also in keeping with my life in general. All I know is that when the setting sun begins to melt into the horizon like a popsicle on a hot day and I look out at my kids laughing and playing with their cousins, I don’t want to be anywhere else. So, as Billie Joe Armstrong wrote, it appears that I am at another turning point, a fork stuck in the road. Some come on time and grab me by the wrist, because I don’t know which way to go. :end transmission: 03:30 - 07.17.24 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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