Homesick.
I’m feeling all kinds of homesick lately. It’s not all the time, in fact it’s not that frequent at all, and it only lasts a few seconds. But it’s there, and I really thought it wouldn’t be.
The other day, for instance, I realised that I couldn’t just go home if I wanted to. Most every other journey I’ve ever made has been easy to undo with a short train ride, but leaving this place would involve 24 hours of plane and $300 in ticket charges. And I couldn’t just come back if I regretted leaving. That’s pretty heavy.
This isn’t, of course, me saying that I want to go home. I totally don’t - I’ve barely scratched the surface of Santa Fe, and even once I’m done here there’s still 50 states and hundreds of cities to explore. I’m here for the duration, barring sickness or death. Still, I’m missing things like the aforementioned trio of friends, my family, Tim and the trips to Poole, the ladies, Broadband, and the safety of staying in my room all day.
That last one is a big one. Sometimes I wish I could just be in my bedroom, on my sofa, browsing the net all the time. It’s not healthy to want, sure, but I still want it occasionally. The great thing about this trip, of course, is that I can’t always have what makes me feel safe and secure. That’s really what these three months are all about - moving me outside my comfort zone and hoping against f*ck that I manage to grow in the wilderness.