Why does the thought of moving house give me such conflicting feelings of excited anticipation and nervous trepidation? Two such jumbly-jangly feelings should not be forced to shake hands with each other and be friends.
But deciding where to live is quite a big responsibility. I mean, just imagine moving to Rome, Paris, or New York for instance. An extreme example for sure, but consider whether they would provide you with the happy dream-like existence you may have often longed for. Would you feel like you were Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday, Sabrina and Breakfast at Tiffany’s? Oh, wouldn’t it be lovely if you could?
Well, it’s something no one can fully know, unless they’ve tried it out. I think the biggest part of such an adventure, is the first internal ‘yes’. That quiet (or loud) knowing feeling that ‘Yes, I really could go there and do that’ etc. If we really said that special ‘yes’ to ourselves more often, and followed through with certainty, we might all lead the most whackiest of lives. And some people certainly do.
As for me, I won’t be moving to Paris tomorrow. But hopefully, I might be moving from the sticks, into town.. well, the edge of the edge of town, to be exact. The distance isn’t very far, but the difference could prove to be enormous!
Nothing more has happened beyond the initial decision being made. And the rest will turn out, how it will turn out. But my toes are over the edge. And I’ll feel all jittery until I know where I’ve landed.