My love for the place.

I never really hear silence where I live, because I live right by the 5S freeway. I think if there was silence, I'd feel uncomfortable. Unsafe almost. Which is kind of sad, considering meditation in silence makes you a better person and all that.

I am remembering last year at this time. The curly vines of summertime were stretching their way around my consciousness, making me itchy for the coming months. I craved lakes and rivers, hiking and camping, cookouts and poolside memories. This year, however, I cannot crave those things because I am not returning to Wisconsin until the fall.

There are a number of reasons why I am not going this year, breaking my five year pattern of visiting every summer. The main reason, of course, is work. Leaving my students would put me out an extra 600 dollars if I took the week off. ( I can't reschedule that many kids.) But there is also another reason I am not going, and it's tugging at me, making me uncomfortable.

It's my love for the place.

I have spent the past two years building my life up. I have built my own career, which is blossoming at this point, found a quiet little nook in Capo to settle in, and have decently kept up my friendships and relationships the best I've known how. I am truly happy. But there is still that familiar pang of missing somewhere just enough to make me feel uncomfortable sometimes.

And I just don't need to tempt myself to feel antsy again. Not this summer, anyway.