I want to go back to Charlottesville now.
Usually, I get here tired and stressed on Friday. Then I get up late and get little accomplished on Saturday. Then I hurry up and wait to get out of here on Sunday.
This was my first extended time here on purpose for years.
I’ve been in all seven cities (never mind that there’s nine, 10 if you count Franklin). I’ve seen so many things that have stayed the same, so many things that have changed.
Despite that, it feels like old times. Although I said I don’t want to live here again, I could. Easily.
I think that’s why I’m ready to go back.
I just … I can’t. Deep down, it feels like I shouldn’t be here, that being here would be some form of defeat.
I nearly volunteered to do something, forgetting I live two hours away. I think that’s part of why I’m torn. I spent 22 years being a community member here. The closest I’ve been to integrating myself in a community was Hopewell. But I didn’t live there.
I guess I need to do that in Cville. It’s what I need to do. I need to belong. Never mind the five, 10, whatever years I’ll give Jeffersonland.
I need a sense of place, since Hampton Roads definitely is not the place.