I Can't Win. But Luckily It's Not a Competition.

I'm back in Wilmington now, just getting used to the new/old rhythms and responsibilities. My body doesn't remember this place; the sand shifts as I walk on it, while the mountains always stood firm. The air is thick and wet, the sun goes down so early, and I'm just now not too stiff for yoga (which I skipped for the summer in favor of hiking). It's strange, albeit delightful, to read until midnight--in Montana, I always got caught up in something social instead. So little time now, for just hanging out and doing nothing. Always a lesson plan or a workshop piece or a library trip looking over my shoulder disconcertingly until I do it. I'm glad to be back with my clothes and kitchen and bed and friends, and praise the Lord! I actually write every day! But this summer I just got another magnet under my skin, pulling me toward yet another place I'll always miss. I knew this would happen--while I was there, I thought about being here, and now that I'm here, as I predicted, I'm obsessed with Montana. I wonder if I'll ever stop doing this to myself, going to places knowing I can't stay, and then I wonder if I even want to.