I like Denver. New Orleans is repeatedly and truly my home. Both of my sisters have missed me being home, and they both know my home is in New Orleans without my having spoken to either often over the summer. My sisters don’t always agree, and when they do, it should (and has) been noted. I’m closer to both my sisters now, oddly enough, and have missed them more now than I did for many years. But I lack many of the strong women who hold sway in my life. All of them, actually. Ladies, I miss you. If you had to wonder if you are such a lady, chances are the answer is yes. Feel loved and missed. 🙂
My roommates are new, and old at the same time. These are living conditions I survived for many years, when I was much younger and less aware of my world. Adding adult understanding does not make it easier, but it makes more sense in the grander puzzle of society. However, I can only do so much. I hope their dog isn’t dead before I move…I really like playing with the puppy. It’s nice to still have some contact with animals, as Katniss’s absence continues to be sharp and painful. I may look into another fluff companion after March…Katniss is still happy and healthy with her dad, which allows me contact whenever I visit home. Like I needed another reason to visit! lol
Despite my homesickness and my living adventchores, I am learning about this fine city. I believe Denver may be male, but I haven’t quite settled yet…it is indeed a city of success, but also of distance. A protective shell almost encases us here, and I’m not sure why exactly…we also are very green. I agree with recycling and general environmentally-friendly attitudes, but it’s almost in a naive vein in this western land. Of course, I am coming from a openly-un-green area of the world, save my bywater types of the night in the southern gulf. Culture shock is present in my life for the first time since 2008, when I practiced rolling my “r”s with my Tico brother.
If you do nothing else with your life, travel. Risk. It’s not always the ideal ending, but it is always worth the story.
I miss my friends in New England. I had few, but intimate friends. I miss what brought us together, although I see now why things are better this way. I can’t go back, but if I could, I don’t think I’d change the actions I took. I’m not unhappy, and that is better than several years of my life.
I miss my family of friends, even the new editions like Max and Margaret, while the places people like JJ, Tina, and Gary hold will never fully be replaced. I don’t want to replace these contacts anyway, I just want to keep the hearth lit. A slow burning of embers is enough to rekindle as I visit, and keep stirring until I can really tap my roots out. And new places mean new relationships, some from old seed and some from wildflower sprays of new windblown material. I am bonding through new mediums, and hoping to touch out some physical sensation with this planet I reside upon. I can feel my body now…let’s see what all it can do.
I must be writing, else I cannot breathe. I recently noticed I’d been holding my breath, and to no profit whatsoever. I can release this breath, and draw in another. I can allow restoration; allow renewal. I will draw breath and exhale, and repeat this process. Every few seconds, I revive my desire to keep pushing into this world. I haven’t found my fit yet, but it’s gotta be somewhere. At least I know where to go home after these adventures. That is a comfort beyond my previous understanding.