I am unsure if it's because our life has become repetitive and consistent and safe or if it's the reality that we can't just pack our bags and run to wherever we feel we need to be. I at once feel elated with this life and think it cannot possibly get any better and simultaneously feel suffocated. My wings are clipped. Our bags are unpacked. We are settled. We watch old Seinfeld reruns on our non-cable tv at 10:15. Every. Night. I am not complaining, I love that time. It is so innocent and light. We laugh. We snuggle. We laugh more. We need less. And yet I daydream and I wonder as I wish on our next adventure.
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