Back in Maine and wishing i was in windy, snowy, northern New York instead. There may not be a lot to do there, but it'll always be home. My family is back home. My friends, my job, my life is here. Why is that? Why do we feel like we need to always be somewhere else? Are there people that are just never happy because they always want to be where they aren't? The only way to survive this parallel is to immerse yourself in life here until it is time to face the reality of there again. And where is a good compromise?
I'm still on vacation with too much time to think apparently.
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