T-2 days before I flash my middle finger at sour suburbia and my man's dirty diesel fills your back yards with black smoke as we tear out of the neighborhood heading for a week of soul reviving peace with the trailer in tow and the dogs in back seat, head out the window in full 'we're going camping' glory. I have been prepacking for like 5 days. Making and tweaking lists (ya I'm a planner and ok, I may be a little OCD) but it's all I could do in anticipation of our favorite kind of holiday and the first one in what feels like way too long a while. And let's face it, I have never loved the city. I often wonder why and how I came to the decisions of living here like I did. I guess it really comes down to family, and I tried, I really did to be that person and stay here and show stability. Just like you all wanted me to. But in my veins pulses something else and the more I push it away the louder and harder it pounds. My sister calls it running away, which I have never understood. Just because i want to move doesnt mean im tail tucked and avoiding reality. I just feel like this life doesn't agree with me. Like paddling against
the current instead of going with the flow. Perhaps it's her guilt trip (which is not unlike her - come little sister! Be all I want you to be, not what you actually want to be) and maybe it's really that she doesn't understand. This feeling of unsettled, that life is so much more, has so much more. Insert huge resounding sigh that's becoming all too familiar. I would very much like to not come back from camping. Just keep carrying on and see where life would take me. To come back to this daily nine to five will slowly break my soul. And my heart. And yes, I did wear my camp fire fragrant hoody to work today, it smells delicious.
