One of the strangest experiences ever is feeling nostalgic for a less-than-enjoyable moment in life. For instance, my time in Austin, Texas was tumultuous and stressful — but now, after a little space between myself and the negative experience, I actually miss it.
Not the city, necessarily, but the experience. I might even, if given the opportunity, go back in time and relive that negative experience all over again — but this time, do so with the comfort of knowing everything is going to work out.
Today, as I sit in a city that I desperately want to get the hell away from, I have to wonder if at some point in time, I'll look back on this experience and miss it too. Despite the hell this god damned city has thrown my way over the last three months, maybe, once I've gotten past all of this, I'll look back at Utah the same way I do Texas: with the bizarre, masochistic urge to do it all over again, but better.
My partner and I bought a new truck yesterday. We're officially free to leave Utah, and we're practically giddy with relief. We've got a trip back to Austin, Texas next week — but after we return to Utah, we're planning to immediately hook our RV up to our new truck and get out of this horrible place. But again, I can't help but wonder, will a strange part of myself come to miss this little lot we've been living on, these places we've frequented? Will I miss the view of the world outside my office window? The brick wall covered with sunbathing lizards, curious squirrels, and bright-colored birds that somehow sit harmoniously there together?
I suppose that's the strange thing about living nomadically. You've got the bittersweet flavor of coming to love a place and leaving it far more frequently than anybody else. I get to fall in love so many times. But I also have to deal with the sorrow of leaving.
So, as much as I hate Utah, as much as I blame it for irreparably denting my armor, I intend to cherish my final days with it. I intend to spend a lot of time in my office, staring outside, and absorbing every detail of this experience.
Because someday soon, it'll be a distant memory. And I think it's safe to say that if it's up to us, we'll never, ever return.