I thought I would live in Oklahoma forever. My home state filled me with an immense sense of pride and I wanted to do everything within my power to make it feel the same way. My idea of a perfect profession changed several times over the course of my younger years, but the idea of doing it for Oklahoma never wavered. Then, it did.
The idea of roaming elsewhere began as an itch; an annoyance that could be silenced by hopping on a plane or taking a long road trip. For a while this worked, I returned home with stories to tell and new experiences to cherish. Underneath the surface, curiosity was moving like furious piranhas. Greener pastures soon became a fixation. Seeds planted long ago began to germinate and I was helpless against them. I could satisfy the longing or live with my regret. I don’t do well with regret. Seattle was born for me. Then it became Los Angeles. Soon it will be Seattle again. This idea of not staying in any one place for long was born.
I started telling myself that I shouldn’t allow people to get too close. “Don’t let them love you. You’ll only hurt them when you’re gone,” was a constant thought nagging at my soul. “I Am Trying to Break Your Heart” by Wilco became an anthem for me. “Stick Around” by David Ramirez was suggested to be a song written for me. My inner voice had outward representation and I felt hopeless to change the narrative. Then, I made a choice; a deal with myself of sorts.
I would go where I felt called. I would travel where I longed. I would undertake grand adventures all in the hopes of satisfying some sense of self, but Seattle would be a basecamp for me and my little family. I would invest deeply in relationships. I would tighten the bonds of friendship. I would build a community for myself. I would count my legacy with an ongoing story written by others. I would die knowing one place as my home, but always with a wondering, roaming soul.
Be good to each other,
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