I still have not made a satisfactory decision as to whether I will try to stay or go back home. I have decided one thing for certain. Even though my business is not through on the west coast, whether visiting or staying, I want to go home for a couple days visit. A vacation from my vacation…? Obviously that’s not going to happen. Even supposing I had the money to make the round trip a second time, I’m sure that I would get home and absolutely not want to come back.
This hints to me that I have already adjusted to living here. That here is home. Even though I have a place to live, I want to go Home. I think no matter how well I adjust, accept, living here, I’ll always want to go Home, and that I would be looking for every possible opportunity from here on. Maybe it’s best to consider this a vacation and not get too attached before I find myself stuck here and miserable. Interesting – this train of thought relates directly back to the other day. Will I be miserable if I go Home and regret not trying to live here, or will I be miserable if I stay here and realize I don’t like it and am stuck in a cycle of not-enough-money not-enough-time and can’t go back?
I had a feeling early on that I already decided what I wanted and that it was a matter of discovering myself so that I could carry out my own wish. That feeling is still lingering, and I cannot help but think the revelation is close. I think in the next couple days I will be certain that I want to come home.
I’m not willing yet to put my weight behind that. And a lot can still happen in the next two weeks. A lot still has to happen. I did not just come to look for jobs. I need to visit people. Friends in Springfield. I’ll be heading up there tomorrow and coming back on Sunday. Then there’s the hard one….
I need to visit Grandpa. I didn’t get to see him when his health was deteriorating. I didn’t get to come to the funeral.
I’m dreading the conversation with Grandma. I don’t know how well she will take the subject. But I need her help – I can’t very well search every headstone for 50 miles. I’ve been finding excuses to delay asking her, just like I have been finding excuses to avoid job hunting. I’m running out of time. Assuming I do go back, my trip has run nearly a third of its course. Close to half my time in Applegate has passed, accounting for this weekend in Springfield. When I come back I have to ask. No excuses. No matter how scared I am to do so.
My birthday is tomorrow. I know that it sounds straight out of fiction, but I forgot until Grandma reminded me. It’s not that I don’t remember the date. I just haven’t been paying attention to the calendar and the day itself is not so very important to me. I can’t say why. I just don’t…like…my birthday. It’s so bittersweet. I usually have a good time, but it’s a day that my friends and family make all about me. I hate being the center of attention unless I do it to myself. Then I like it a lot.
Then there’s the fact that I have spent my last two birthdays with two different girls. I can’t spend tomorrow with Briana. I have fond memories of numbers twenty and twenty-one. But whenever I reach into my mind and dredge them out, I can’t help but feel sad. This time next year, what will I think about twenty-two? Sad again? Sad because this time I was alone? Guilty because I was happy, because I treated it like just another day? I don’t know.