Whirlwind Weekend...

I have returned from my home state of Colorado to the Enchanted Forest of Luv that I share with The Boyfriend here in Phoenix. I guess there is a point in every gnome's life when they realize that they've outgrown the Kiebler tree--regardless of the familiar cookie smell and all the welcoming, pointy-eared faces, it is just not home anymore. It's strange to think that Arizona now feels more like home. I used to be a part of that landscape, a patch integrated into the quilt and now, as a returning visitor, I'm a red brush stroke on a painting or a loose thread, trying to catch back up on the story line. Where's my metaphorical needle?

Love seeing the family and friends, don't get me wrong, I do. It makes me miss them all the more to see them and to see them moving along in their separate orbits without me in the landscape. Makes me feel out of touch. Perhaps that sounds like I am saying, "Poor me. No one notices my absence." A guess-I-will-go-eat-some-worms attitude. No. It makes you think about change--such a good thing, I know. As a 20 something, I yearn for it. I want to make my mark and have my dreams come one step closer. I want to grow up, nestle in, stand out, spice of life action-oriented goodness. But every step towards is a step away, now isn't it? It seems as if we are all colliding marbles, bouncing like billiards balls around our own paths, never clearly seeing each other for all the shiny, disorienting spinning.

I guess in a dark and fatalistic way I am saying that my heart aches with the pleasure of seeing you all. Congrats to my brother and sister, who have accomplished so much. It never feels that way at the time of a graduation--at least it didn't to me. It's your family that makes the hoopla. But this time around, I'm a hoopla-er and I see the real accomplishment behind the ceremony and the handshake and the mortar boards. And Happy Mother's Day, Mommy! Even if you did take all my money at poker.

PS. Sorry that you were too lame to meet a total stranger, and a mythical forrest myth at that, on her one night in your neck of the woods, James-y. We will have to share a Guiness another time, my friend. However, I would recommend a new place--out of the way and, it seemed, as yet undiscovered. It was half-empty and having drink specials on a Saturday night. It's called the British Bulldog and it's in Five Points (yes, I know, but it's worth it).