05
Back in Burlington
This place is drenched in memories, so many, in fact, that it's overwhelming. Every block, every familiar face, every store front, every drink order... it's connected to something, something special or profound or even mundane from the six and a half years I spent here. My heart feels swollen with emotion, full of warmth and longing, perhaps tattooed with a single word: "bittersweet." No place has ever quite done this to me before.
I worried that this visit may be too soon, just two months after fleeing. That I might come back and get seduced by the comfort, by the memories, but instead this visit has been the opposite. The familiarity and comfort is, well, comfortable -- but with it comes the realization that it's not what I want, at least not at this very moment in this very life. I left at the right time. This place is comfortable but changed, and while I would have adapted to those changes, I don't know that I would have wanted that. I left on a high note.
This place will always be home. It is my past. It may be my future. But it is not my present. There's a peace in that, in realizing that, finally, truly. And there's a freedom (and a terror) in not knowing what the hell is on the horizon.
I'm also realizing that so much of my home here, so much of my heart here, is wrapped around one person: Matt (a/k/a "Duncan"). Without him here, without him with me or just down the road, it feels like something is missing. No, not just missing. It feels like there's a giant crater in the middle of town that I just keep having to walk around. I never realized how inextricably linked he was, not just to my life, but to this place. As we navigate a long distance friendship, as I try to negotiate my feelings for him, it's sometimes tough and confusing. But space, from both my long-time flame and my long-time home, is what I need right now.
This visit is not too soon. It's just right. Perspective was what I craved, and Vermont has delivered.
Everything ends. Everything changes.
Even Burlington. Even me.