I've been away from my sleepy, little beach town for about three months now and for the first time since I left, I'm finally homesick. I miss the salt, the waves, the people, the lifestyle, even the humidity. It's funny how change does that to you. It takes the life you grew to hate and reminds you of all the beauty it brought you. It shows you everything you took for granted because now you can't get it back. That's the problem with people like me, the flighty type. We're so focused on what's next and what else there is that we forget to appreciate the present.
I forgot how much I loved drinking coffee on my balcony, listening to the Atlantic crash and smelling the salty humidity of another summer day. I forgot that laying on a surfboard, floating away the afternoon is not a day wasted. Some of the best days were spent walking First Street with palm trees paving the way to my favorite coffee shop.
I left because I was ready. It's what I needed at that time. Maybe I left because I needed this. I needed a little homesick in my life to bring me back, to stop constantly thinking about what's next and just enjoy where I am. I long for the balance between comfort and progression, a healthy growth. I fear stagnancy, but because of that fear, I can't let myself grow at a steady rate. I rush through my experiences if I sense even the slightest amount of rooting. And that's not growth.
Accept the stillness. Because taking a breath and enjoying a moment is not stagnancy, it's joy. Instant gratification is never as satisfying as you think. It feels right and it feels good and then it wears off. That's the nature of impulsivity. There's adrenaline in that rush, but if you spend your whole life seeking it, you'll just look back and miss the simplicity of where you were, even if it's a moment of just one memory.
I'm going to try and do what has always been my eternal struggle. I will not only recognize the beauty of where I am (that's the easy part), but I will appreciate it for exactly what it is: the present. Instead of wasting my days wishing I was submerged in the ocean one last time or walking the sandy pavement outside my apartment, I'm going to open my eyes to the mountains and enjoy the stillness of today.
More likely than not, I'll look back on this time and miss it one day.