I left for awhile.
But now I'm back.
I sometimes have the itch to leave Franconia. I wake up in April and the ground is brown, with rain drizzling down all my windows. It's cold. It's slush. It's mud season.
I went out west and visited my sister in Oregon. Her boyfriend seems to like it out there and each time I see him he asks me when I'm moving.
Why not? Why stay in Franconia?
At first, I don't know the answer to the question because it's a valid one. Why not leave? Then I start to panic.
Is something wrong with me? Should I want to leave?
So I start to think that maybe I should. Maybe I should say goodbye to this tiny town where people love to stick their noses in others' business. It's hard to find a job. It's even harder to find a place to live. Sometimes, I wonder why people even bother visiting here.
But then I walked down the street in Portland, Oregon and I was freezing, yet my hands were sweating against my coffee cup because I was so nervous. Is that person looking at me? He looks like a killer. Rapist? That one's homeless. Did he just ask me for food? Where do I find a good cup of coffee? Oh, here's a coffee shop. Everyone is looking at me. "Mocha, please." Six dollars?! God, it smells like trash. I need to cross the street, where is the crosswalk? Do I walk now? Oh, no. Wait, now? Okay they're honking. GO!
By the end of the walk, I was exhausted and just wanted to get back into my sister's apartment. And that's when it hit me. As much as it can suck to have other people in my business, at least I have people. My sister has been there almost three years and she is surrounded by hundreds more people than back home, yet, friends are hard to come by.
I like going into the grocery store and having the cashier know my name. I like that my coffee is delicious, and affordable. I like Franconia. Sometimes I just have to leave to realize it.
I left for awhile.
But now I'm back.
