once you caused my cells to shimmer

The city seen from the Queensboro Bridge is always the city seen for the first time, in its first wild promise of all the mystery and the beauty in the world. -F. Scott Fitzgerald

I am aching to sort my life out well enough that I am content with it. Aching to solidify my plans, find a place for next summer, or spend it walking if I get my way. I am content with certain aspects of my life, but feel like I am not achieving what I should be. I am still allowing myself to take a weekend off. I don't feel that I have necessarily earned it, so much as I feel that I need it in order to reapply myself to my life here.

I want a city to love, a city I can drown it. I do not dislike here, so much as it does not inspire the wanderer in me, it doesn't inspire tracing my life out across the streets like lines on a paper, like writing. I miss walking, I miss the ability to walk aimlessly, and I may start again anyway, I may start because it feels wrong not doing so. I may start because I feel that I will soon question my sanity anyway, am already questioning my desires, and I feel like I need something to ground me to here. My feet on the pavement have always been relatively good at doing that.

So a weekend away, wandering around the happiest place on earth, around a place that makes me happy, with family that I love and miss. And then home again home again, to an apartment I love in a city that may never feel like home. Two years is not so long though, and time always passes quickly these days. I will get a job, I will do more work, I will go out less, I will care less what people think of me, I will try to recreate the feeling I had at the end of the camino. I will try to recreate the feeling of patience, of knowing what I want.