At times during this whirlwind wonderful week I have had to remind myself that living in the Big City wouldnt be quite like this. I had amazing food I did not have to cook, lovely walking commutes to work, visits with friends who gladly cleared schedules for me, and beautiful unseasonably warm runs. I lived here before, I know about broken Metro escalators, and geographically-inconvenient parties, and massive mortgage payments. But this week was hug-filled and lulled me into dreaming about getting more city dust on these cowgirl boots.
Yet I also feel eager to return to my mountains and wide open spaces. I miss my trail runs and my friends. I look forward to quiet mornings and star-filled skies.
Friends and loved ones have jestingly urged me to join them all over the country. If I moved every 12 months it would still take me years to explore all the new hometowns I have been offered. Thich Nhat Hahn has written, "our true home is inside us, but it is also in our loved ones around us," and he points out that in Vietnamese the object of one's love is called "my home." I have a lot of decisions to make in the coming weeks/months/years/never, and I honestly have no idea what they will be, but it feels very good to know that really no matter where I go, I will be Home.