It has been a long time, and it has been a lot of fun. But sometime in 2006, I'm headed back to the land of milk and honey. I have some things to take care of down there...things that take precedence over the obligations I have here.
I'm listening to Kelly Clarkson's song "Break Away" and it is making me nostalgiac for the days leading up to when I first moved to New York City. I still have a long stretch here but there have been moments lately, when I look down the street and see all that humanity has done to this place, both good and bad, I get a proufound wave of depression at the realization that one day soon it will not be my home.
There are so many places I've been, so many proverbial mountains I've climbed, but I'm standing still. The future is a scary ass place.
My uncle died recently, which is the catalyst to all this emotion. But the emotion has been there anyway. I went home and saw the family, and all the intricate branches and off-shoots from the family tree, and I realized that in the midst of sadness and death, I was back in my little slot in the tree. I love those people, my family, dearly, but not a one of them ever fully caught on to why I wanted to break away. I've been a lot of places. Didn't accomplish much but collecting fabulous stories to tell. And it was worth it. Was it worth it?