How would I know how great it is to come home if I never left? How could I taste adventure if I never ventured?
I’m back home after a short but mighty visit with friends. I’m happy to be back, and I’m ecstatic that I took the opportunity to go. It was, as most vacations are, those happy moments where daily responsibilities are temporarily set aside. Coming home places me right back in the immediacy of all those things which must be faced and tamed, dealt with and put away.
I’m grateful to be able to do just that. My normal sleep schedule will return, my kitten will once again see my face, hear my voice, and know my touch as I pet her, and the rhythm of my days will return as if I hadn’t left at all. But I’ll know. I’ll remember. And that memory will keep my spirit soaring.
These are the days not of ‘shoulda, woulda, coulda’, but of saying yes to moments, yes to opportunities, yes to my own happiness. There was a long period of time where I existed in the land of blaming others. I couldn’t experience happiness because I wouldn’t be responsible for my own decisions. I had no idea how to ‘adult’. I’ve since learned that the very act of placing blame for my problems on others is tantamount to handing the keys to my queendom over to the first rogue who claimed to know me better than I could know myself.
Not any-mo-ore🎶. I know I need my friends, and I know that I can make my own decisions. I have come home to myself.
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