Few things have the ability to make me sick to my stomach like the sharp pang of nostalgia. I have a real gift for missing times from my past more than the average person. Which doesn’t really line up well with the fact that I’m one who thrives on change and newness.
I miss living in New York. I miss the energy of that place. I miss being scared at least once a day that I wouldn’t be able to figure out my way home. I miss living off polenta because I couldn’t afford anything else. I miss going to Target, buying a lot of things, and getting out to the parking lot with my basket realizing I don’t have a car to carry it all home in.
I miss flight attending. I miss traveling to Europe every week. I miss spending stupid amounts of money on panty hose for my flight attendant uniform and eating terrible airplane food and packing and unpacking my suitcase ten times a week and losing track of what time zone I’m in. I miss setting my alarm clock for 2 AM in order to get to the airport in time to work a red-eye.
Now I live in Austin. I don’t get to travel very much. I have a car, and I can get home from any point in Austin with my eyes closed. I have beautiful, creative, selfless, wise, talented friends around me. I have a dog that’s pretty cute, super fluffy, and extra funny. I spend my weekends going to concerts, kayaking, and even rollerskating. Sometimes my gal pals and I have beautiful dinner parties and we sit around and tell ghost stories. Soon enough I’ll look back and miss these times a lot.