I'm visiting a medium sized western town I spent many years in. In the past, I've tortured myself with regret over moving away from here. In the most futile of these times, I'll replay my life as if I had never moved, predicting a non-existent past like a hyperactive God with too much time on her hands. It's crazy-making, and it never makes me feel better, only confused. If my wits are about me at all, my thoughts usually come back around to something like this. I like who I am today a lot better than the person who left this town 10 years ago. I've cleaned up my act, been freed from some behaviors that were killing me, reconnected with God, repaired relationships, rejuvenated my body, continued to pursue my creative passions, and found truly meaningful work for which I am richly compensated. When I look in the mirror, I like who I see. My life seems to be following a path where the dots connect in ways I never would have imagined, but it all fits. Who am I to second guess God, fate, destiny?
So it comes back to this. I like this town. If the right circumstances present themselves and I get to come back here, so be it. If not, I get to visit. There is no turning back, not if I want to keep my sanity.
