The Gypsy Soul was Stirred

We'll call this part one because I know I don't have time to write what I want to write right now, right? NYC girl trip was a blast...getting to know one friend better and making new ones along the way. What I didn't expect is my absolute inability to settle down since my return. I knew that I had the travel bug and that I have been seriously missing that part of my life in recent years, but this feels like a disease. An affliction? addiction? It is visceral. I feel like an out of luck crack head looking for a hit. I'm restless and antsy and I can't concentrate. I'm distracted and day dreamy and totally anxious because I know that I will pay dearly tonight and tomorrow morning in my attempt to scramble to finish all the things I should have done today. I am eking out work at a snail's pace because I can't stay focused. I'm really not ADD; this is very specific. And familiar, but it has been a while. I'd like to say it is too much coffee, but A. I don't believe there is such a thing and B. I've really only had two cups so that's not legit anyway.

Sometimes people laugh when I tell them about my 3 year gypsy cycle but this is no laughing matter. If you haven't heard me talk about it and you actually care, it goes like this. Pretty much since I was born, every 3 years (sometimes down to the very day) a major life change and often a physical move comes my way. You might say this is a self-fulfilling prophecy and maybe on a subconscious level you'd be right. But as some of you ("you" my friends out in the world, not "you" the non-existent readers of this blog) have witnessed I usually don't have any idea these changes are coming and don't do anything to invite or perpetuate them. Shit just happens. I make a major life change and move far away for a very specific reason with no intention of ever coming back. Three years goes by and WHAMMO here I am, moving back to the very place I thought I'd left forever. Or WHAMMO I'm leaving again for unforeseen reasons to yet another adventure. Or WHAMMO a tiny human comes out of my body (that one was on purpose).

Here's my point, next week it will be three years since I returned to Abingdon and I've been fighting the feeling. Something is coming, I can feel it. The wind is shifting. I should probably mention that these events are not always physical relocation. There have been job opportunities, the birth of my son, tragic losses of friends and family, beautiful unexpected windfalls and much more. The only thing that remains the same is the timing.

To be continued...