the changing nature of it

"Albuquerque," i let out an exaggerated, suffering sigh as i looked out the window in the front room of the home i grew up in. "you know, they use to call it the land of 'entrapment.' you always come back."

everything was both familiar and foreign at once. to be fair, i always felt somewhat out of place there. currently, it had been twenty-three years since i had even thought about what it looks like, and much of the city had changed. but not yet this timeless view: dust and leaves, punctuated by tumble weeds, blowing in the wind across the unfenced yard and into the setting sun and expanse of the horizon.

i had promised myself to follow those same tumbleweeds into that very same sunset; to go west; to the ocean; to become a writer; to find love. at least that was my story. it had taken all those years and then the prodigal return for me to realize that what was driving me was not running to any of those things - i could have done any of that almost anywhere. it was the things i wasn't saying, that i was leaving behind, which were my priority. everything else was just a romantic stage to be set against.

i felt the same awkward shame and judgement that fueled my youth welling up from the deep parts of my belly, like angst-ridden butterflies. i caught myself having an imaginary argument with Lance Telsro, a neighbor kid i grew up with who was always cooler and had more money, and he was sure to make the fact known. i was still defending myself from his barrage of torments all these years later.

it was no surprise, really, to find myself slipping into the same thought patterns again. i would come sit here when i was a kid, if it had been a bad day. i would stare at this same sunset and get lost in daydreams about all the amazing things i would do and be once i escaped the limits of this town, and emboldened by all the things i would no longer be.

predicated by a small chuckle, i lamented to my partner, Bill, who entered from the kitchen, "i will never forget this view, and after a short pause, "it really makes me think about how far i've gone... and come."

lingering through my thoughts more, i continued, "it doesn't feel right though. i can't believe they're both gone now - just like that. i always felt like there was unfinished business left between us."

if i had forgotten anything from my youth, it would all be here. everything in the home was exactly as it had been when i left. everything except the stillness that hung in the air where i fondly remember experiences of growing up; my greatest joys, as well as some of my toughest lessons, and a couple of my closest confidantes.

a peculiar thought struck me as i stood there staring into the tie-dye of amber and crimson sunset. feeling Bill's warmth and support behind me, as nostalgia led me through the mental stomping grounds of my youth, one thing seemed highlighted to me now that i had never noticed before. the terrifying and beautiful magic of life is in the potential created by how meaningless it all is. that is to say, we are individually responsible to assign value to the experiences in our own lives, and it was not the experiences that assigned a value to us.

it was a welcomed thought to get lost in considering all the distant circumstances that had brought me to it. there was a comfort that it gave me as well when things began to feel overwhelming. all i had to do was go to that window and allow myself to get lost in thought for a moment or two in order to gain the relief of that perspective once more. engulfed in the desert's parched silence, i was nothing but another grain of sand in the wind.