Astrologers say the Full Moon in Cancer heightens our sensitivity, and maybe that’s why I’ve felt off since I woke up this morning. Other factors might include the wrong number that sexted me at 5 am, or the phone call at 7, or the 3 am bedtime, but I’m going heavenly on this one. We’re meant to deal with our past, they say.
And all day, I’ve been missing Colorado so badly it physically hurts. Not shoveling 2 feet of snow off my car. I’ll never miss that shit. But I do miss the dry winters, how you can wear a t-shirt in freezing weather and not feel like ice-needles are tattooing “dumbass” into your arms. I miss the mountains. I miss the rabid “buy local” mentality that makes small businesses king there. I’ll never miss the cost of living. That was worse than shoveling the whole dang street. I miss snowshoeing, though, and the way winter is a celebration, and not a hibernation.
Mostly, I miss the people. And none of them were natives. I miss the way I found a tribe of women who came to Colorado and became the people they couldn’t be back home.
And yet, while I lived there, I missed Kansas City so much it physically hurt. Not the weather, although I do love a good humid evening. Not the mosquitoes, either, because I’d forgotten how much they love my Irish ass. But I missed the sense of belonging, the hometown pride, the way we anticipate every Royals season as a potential coup even though up until a few years ago, we’d been the joke of the league for like–thirty years.
I missed people who had the same memories as me. I missed getting the best Boulevard Seasonals. I missed my mom. I missed, irrationally, the life I could have lived if I hadn’t made the choices that I made when I was too young to know what the consequences would mean, but I didn’t even know what that was, or if it would even be better.
I don’t think you only live once, but I do think that this life is setting the precedent for the next.
So tonight, while I’m missing being somewhere else missing being here, I think I’ve finally figured out what my New Year’s resolution is– and at the risk of sounding smarmy, maybe what all of ours should be.
In 2018, I am going to try my very hardest to appreciate where I am. This time, this place, these people. You never know where you’ll be in another year, and I don’t want to keep feeling like I’m missing out while I’m still in the middle of everything.
I don’t know what that looks like yet, but off the top of my head, I think I need to start throwing more dinner parties, stop turning down invites, go to more concerts alone, and make Facebook the last item on my list. Write more books I love, and fewer that I’m just fine with. Most of all, I’m going to finish painting my goddamn living room.
Happy New Year, kittens.