Esther told me last night that she is a true "Sagittarian."
"I like it here, but I always have that feeling that I want to go other places and see other things," she said.
I told her I know "exactly" how she feels. I'm so often plagued by this feeling. I think I'm still in denial that we are no longer in France and have ended up right back where we started from, on this breezy mound in Vermont. My only consolation about being back here, aside from the fact that it's stunningly beautiful, even in the dead of winter when you feel as if you're trapped in a charcoal drawing, black and white and multiple shades of grey wherever you look, is that I'm close to my parents again. That and it's an idyllic, you could say kick ass, place to raise children.
Is that enough of a reason to decide where you let your roots stretch the deepest? It will have to be, because it's all I've got.
Though I've kept up the appearance of being back, and having Ian with us again is an amazing relief, if you were to look closely you might see certain signs of lack of commitment here and there in between the lines.