No place like home

What the hell happened in that 24 hours that flipped the "i heart new york city" switch to "off"?

For two autumns, winters, and springs I have been wooed by the magic, and filled with blissful fondness toward this city... then, seemingly overnight, I had been consumed with a deep unwaverable desire to get the hell out of here and into the country.

The noise, the heat, the R line... I shake my fist at you!

Not even a trip into Manhattan, which usually snaps me right into "magical dream world" mode, could change my heart.

I know what happened, actually, I just don't understand why it had an impact opposite of what I had expected.

We moved. We moved less than a mile from our crappy, dark, stinky, rent stabilized apartment in that wealthy, cut-off from the rest of the borough neighborhood... we moved just in between it and another wealthy neighborhood that we actually like better... except for that pesky R line.

Even this new apartment is better. It's brighter, newer, cleaner, less smelly, closer to everything I like to walk to (except my yoga studio and the F line), it's technically quieter, too... except weekend nights. It's better in every way, except the rent is more. But that shouldn't be enough to tip the scales into loathing.

So, what the heck is my problem?

Mr. B and I have been discussing where it all went wrong. We had this plan to be here for 2 years - for his masters degree. Then the 2 years ended and we each thought the other really wanted to stay. I had been worried about loosing medical care, so was reluctant to willy nilly run off to another city or state. To him, it sounded like I was unmovable (perhaps I was at that moment). He was certain he could get a great job here and would be in demand, so was pulled slightly to stick around. To me, it sounded like he saw great career opportunities here, how could I deny him this? Naturally, we each convinced ourselves we wanted to stay, believing it would make the other happy. The truth is, and has been for years, both of us want to be in Vermont.

I want to go home. And I don't know exactly where that is yet, but I know it's not here. Here is a constant unsettledness of having to move every 6-12 months. Here is a constant knowledge that I will never have the space for real furniture or a garden. Here is endless waiting.

I want a house I can make home, full with cozy furniture and beautiful art. I want some land so I can plant a large garden and dot with chickens and sheep and bee hives. Someday I might want a little swing set and a wee faerie child to swing on it (but not just yet). And I want to open my window or walk out my door and smell grass, trees, flowers, rain, and see mountains and valleys and deer.

With this in mind, I click my heals three times...