Five of my good friends have all moved into a three-floor brownstone in The Bronx and I came to New York with them to help them move in. The house is beautiful and spacious and full of character and New York quirk. Admittedly, it makes me question my decision to leave New York. Although I'm not sorry that I left, part of me is sorry to not be coming back and trying again.
I am looking forward to working on the farm in VT. It's a step in the right direction towards accomplishing my goals and realizing my dreams of someday running my own farm. It's bringing me closer to nature and giving me a chance to spend more time outdoors, something I missed living in New York. One of the hardest parts of living in the city, is not being able to lay in grass at night and watch the stars. I'll be able to do that in VT.
This all goes back to how torn I get over all of the places I have lived. I miss the desert mountains and sunsets. I miss the Vermont grass. I miss the excitement and art of New York. I miss the feeling of neighborhoods on Long Island. I miss the local foods of everywhere I have ever lived. Whenever I settle down I end up missing being a free agent and going where ever I want, whenever I want. When I don't live anywhere, I miss having a place to call my own and walls to hang art on, bookcases full of books.
One day I will find a place that is so wonderful it will make it worth giving up pieces of former landscapes and lifestyles.