Six months ago, I struck out from my home, leaving behind the love of my life and the two mini, feline loves of my life to travel north to The Big City to make something of myself – to follow my instinct and my passion toward greatness so that when our family was once again reunited, we’d be that much closer to living the life of our dreams.
Today, 6 months later, I’ve hit something of a wall. It’s not that I can’t go around that wall, it’s just that that’s going to take me a bit longer than expected and requires some rerouting. The world is not over – not even close. But I did just add another 6 months to my sentence.
No one ever promises life will be easy, but having to choose between the person you love and going forth boldly in the direction of your dreams sucks mightily. I know I’m fortunate that they’re not that far away, and to have Jeff in my life at all, but I can’t help but wilt a little when I think about what it was like to come home at the end of a day, and no matter what kind of day it was, I could always count on warmth and love and singing and sometimes even dancing (and often funny accents) when I walked through that door.
Now our phone conversations are a little heavier. The weight of distance hangs over them, and even those that start out characteristically goofy and lighthearted more often than not end in solemn goodbyes.
The easiest thing in the world to do right now would be to cut and run, to fly back into the safe arms of unconditional love, back to the ultimate in comfort zones. But I think I’ve spent much of my life choosing the easiest thing to do, and by doing so have stunted my own growth in the name of instant gratification. Taking one hard road is not enough. Reaching your goals often means taking the hard road again and again so long as it resonates and takes you where you need to go.
And there’s some comfort in knowing that somewhere down the road, I’ll come across a certain scruffy-faced, English Master hitchhiker who just so happens to be going my way.
So, here we go again.