I don’t know if love is enough. Who I was last June would question who I am today and hassle me for a proper explanation of this sentiment. My mind wanders often here, to places that are cold and north of California and echoing of a hope I cannot honestly see here in the country town, this island hounding my ego to break. I cannot let it. There is too much pride and dreams and hope beyond this north facing horizon. I am bored and stretched thin and sunburned and not at all challenged in ways I would like to be. I dont know if love is enough.
I stay though, because of your hands intertwined with mine in the mornings, and easy sunsets and ten minute bikerides to work, and blue popsicles at 6pm and snorkeling in the backyard on my days off. I cannot easily give up sunburned shoulders and hot pikake flower oil on asphalt and the little park I run to in the mornings. But still, my mind wanders. And I think my time is running out, or patience, and I dont know how soft my ego can wear itself.
I must go.