philosophical musings

I have lived my whole adult life in NYC.  My whole working life.  Mostly it's been a good match.  I like the pace of the place and as some of you may know, I'm wound pretty tight.  In NYC most people are, so I fit right in.  But sometimes I feel like I'm waiting for something, some next thing.  I'm keeping up, treading water, passing through, but to what...I don't know.

We've been in Santa Fe for 10 days and I've realized something:  I have never had a place to come home to after work where I was glad to just be.

Don't get me wrong, I'm happy to see my husband and my cat every single day.  My apartment doesn't suck; I know plenty of people would be thrilled to have it.  But it's 400 square feet and the window looks at a brick wall and there's no air.  When I come home from work, there is no happy sigh, no expansion of the heart, no balance.  I think those would be nice.

I'd like to put down my tools, kick off my shoes, and sit down in plein air with a book and a cold drink.  I'd like to take a stroll with my husband after supper and not dodge taxi cabs and delivery trucks.  I'd like to step outside my kitchen door to pick a few herbs for my supper.  Hell, while we're at it, I'd like to eat supper outdoors every once in a while. 

Maybe it's time.