BIG DECISIONS ARE LONELY PLACES

I’m scared. I have to make a big decision and I’m usually so good with big ones but this one has me fearful. And fearfulness makes me lonely. And when I feel lonely, my mind tricks me into believing I’m the only person on earth. So forgive me, would you? I’m in rather a self-centered mood…

I have to decide between my current job and one far, far away. My home here is a humble one but it’s the little nest that I’ve plucked out and put all my stuff in. It’s also the home where I lost both my parents. I bought it because at night the water from the small swimming pool reflects against the surrounding trees and I feel like I’m standing in the middle of a gigantic aquarium. It’s wonderful.

The house is a babajillion years old and is falling apart in places. But somehow it has become the familiar old uncle that smells of the type of tobacco that makes you feel all cozy. The walls know my history and my sadness and leaving would feel like I’m leaving a little of myself behind.

My town is an average sized city and though it suffered horrifying governmental neglect, things are starting to get better, little by little.

It’s dry. It’s hot in summer and icy in winter.

The job far, far away is in a stunning part of my country. The infra-structure is incomparable and the area is rich with markets and vineyards and excitement. But oh brother, the wind! The wind can be acute and murderous one day, and torturous and consistent for weeks after that. It seems to never end.

And no matter where you go, it takes an eternity to get there. It’s the most populous area of my country and the houses are shockingly over-priced and outrageously small. I’ll have to saw my bed in half. Which is okay because I have a saw. But I’m going to have to give it away when I’m done because there would be no place to store it…

Far, far away my brother lives. But distance seems to bind us closer. I fear what proximity will do to a relationship that has only become strong with the loss of our parents.

Here I have my friends. My colleagues. The ones who arranged food to be delivered to my house for two weeks after my dad had died. The ones who took over my work while I was in grief. Who celebrate my birthday every year with balloons and cake and presents, even though my age justifies a more humble approach. My friends and colleagues who secretly watch my car’s tires for wear…

Pay is the same, job is the same. Which do I choose to avoid regretful backward glances? My heart says stay, you are needed here. My brain says go, that’s where everything happens; where the grownups go.

My gut says stay…stay, you foolish girl. Stay where the problems are. And go make some chococino…

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