there is always room to make improvement on a decision once you've lived through its consequences. and here i am, packing my things once again, preparing for a few months out of a suitcase, wondering once again if i've made the right decision to move once again. there are far worse problems to be faced with than wondering if the path you've chosen of many options is the right one, but it never makes this any easier. i could just stay rooted to the ground and sleep in and miss my flight, and that would be the end of it, and i wouldn't worry anymore for the next weeks about my family and my home, and whether i can call it that anymore. for all the romance and importance of travel and experiencing different places, it still is no easy thing when my father asks 'are you sure you don't want to stay?', because he wants me to, and he knows that part of me does, too. he says 'you could just keep working at poggio', and it sounds so easy to do. i know my life here, i know my home and my work and my surroundings don't appear fearsome at night, because i have been around them for so long.
i'm not sure i get all the fuss about making your own life and home, when you begin to do it after already having lived 20 odd years of it. many of us need new beginnings, but very few can ever truly start from scratch. we have already come from somewhere and had our loves and losses and our warm memories and trials, so why escape these things? variety? i love to experience what i can, but we are all tied to somewhere, no matter how nomadic we fancy ourselves.
"i wanted to be the one with road dust on my boots. ... all i ever wanted was a world without end."
it all sounds so good in theory, and by the time i've lived through it, it probably will be.
but sometimes i just want to stay home and hang out with my mom and dad.