Thursday September 6, 2012
Sometimes do you ask yourself if there’s anywhere else you’d rather be than right where you are? Would you rather be at sea, let’s say off the coast of Maine, on a schooner with a captain named Donny and lobster for breakfast, lunch and dinner? Would you rather be on a prairie sheep farm with a silo filled with unspun wool and a barn cat who wakes you up with her tail tickling your nose? Maybe you’d rather be in a teeny tiny apartment in downtown Manhattan, where you pay way too much and then eat way to little but you’re working on something so wonderful and secret that it makes every hunger pain and squashed cockroach worth it. Or, perhaps, you long to be hiking high Andes mountains with a small backpack on your back with one change of clothes, Dr. Bronners soap and a toothbrush and a sherpa, Carlos, carrying the your tent and your food. Maybe you want to fall in love with Carlos. Maybe you and Carlos decide never to leave the mountains and you drink yerba mate and raise dark eyed children in mud hut. Sometimes do you ask yourself if there’s anywhere else you’d rather be than right where you are? Sometimes your answer is “yes”. Sometimes your answer is “no”. Even though you rush far too much, even though you drink too much coffee and too much red wine, even though you hate the sounds of buses revving their engines outside your window every morning, even though your feet hurt from long hours and not enough toe curling pleasures, you are in love with this moment of this life in all it’s imperfection and wonder.