Ew. Sundays. They can be the most lovely day in the world, but they can also be that day when weird emotions just sneak right up on you out of nowhere. I've been living, at the very least, two thousand miles from home for seven years now. I very rarely get homesick.
But I think it's this stupid book I'm reading. Which is not to say it's actually a stupid book. It's quite, good actually -- The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz. It's just that there are parts of it (a lot of them) that slap me square in the face with memories I've gone out of my way to forget. And not entirely in a bad way. With a bit of nostalgia, and maybe a tiny bit of shame.
And last night at dinner, GFBR was talking about how things are getting a bit harder here, as she prepares to return to the other side of the world. There are things you don't let yourself think about wanting until you get close enough to having them. Just being comfortable and normal. Being, at least, in the same time zone as the people who are your heart.
But it's too late for that, anyway. My heart's been scattered all over the damn place by now.
Mostly, it's Halloween. And then it will be Thanksgiving, and Christmas. The times when I feel most selfish for being where I am. As my aunt said on the phone the other day, 8 more months and it won't be the first anymore. The first birthday without my grandfather. The first Christmas. The first New Year.
God forbid I give the impression that I'm unhappy. It's been as close to an ideal weekend as I could imagine. And the boys are going to be adorable this week. My apartment is clean, my life is in order. I'm looking to start planning a fantastic vacation with my best friend in the world to Greece in a few months. But GFBR is right in thinking that things get harder when you have to break the illusion of the ongoing dream and think about what's going to come next. Make decisions and lay plans and, ultimately, choose to leave something out of the equation.
Oh, fuck it. As the saying goes. Life is good, and I never imagined in a million years that I'd be able to sit around on a Sunday morning bellyaching about not being able to have everything I want. There was a point when I would have settled for anything. And that's what life is about anyway, yeah? If you could have everything you wanted by the time you were 25, you'd have no reason to live past 30. I intend to get around to it. It's just going to take a minute.