fragile symmetry

Dear K-

I get the sense that there is some vast expanse beside me, stretching out in the distance just waiting to be explored. I can feel it. Like a cool gasp on the back of my neck, refreshing and sweet. It feels so tempting, but my mind gives me pause. What cost, what cost? How long and how far would I have to go before I found peace?

Like a horse corralled in a field, I pace back and forth along the border longing to cross to the other side, to race off into the empty fields and away from the familiarity and comforts of my pasture. Suddenly everything I know tastes bitter, foul, and I know deep down that I will never be satisfied until I get to taste the foreign lands just beyond my reach. I think my great-grandmother’s blood runs strong in my veins, the spice of the Slavic disposition gives me an unquenchable wanderlust that boils against everything I have been raised to seek out: status, stability, routine. The things that bring me comfort also frustrate me. I’m like a fickle child, unable to articulate what I want but constantly howling because nothing here can fill that undefinable void. It makes me feel ashamed to be so weak.

I’ll continue to pull at my tethers, continue to stare out the window thinking about futures, but the truth is I am getting old and eventually I will just have to come to terms with the bed I have made. Eventually there won’t be enough fight left in me, and I won’t be able to keep running. My legs will be broken and bruised from overuse and I’ll collapse in exhaustion, and I just hope and pray that wherever I lay I can find peace in that place, since more likely than not I will never get up again.

I hope you are doing well.

Warmly yours, as always,

-k