I have never come to so completely and totally adore a place so instantly. The standard is about a year before my new blank white walls start to feel like home after I move--before that they are an enemy closing in on me, foreign and ominous. I never thought that someone could actually get used to moving away. I never thought something like this could become easy, but here I am, so completely in love with this era of my life despite the tugging on my heartstrings whenever I look at that Okinawan map hanging by my desk. People have always said that growing up is a trap and it really sucks (which I get... the whole "bills" thing isn't exactly thrilling.) I am still just basking in the joy of it, because I can feel myself getting stronger with every day that passes and every lesson I learn the hard way. These are the walls we decorated ourselves, the tribal-patterned backdrop for this second act of our lives, and I find them absolutely enchanting.
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