Gastown has never been a place we considered moving to. It's too far from my friends in the West End and Shawn's friends in Yaletown. It's right on the edge of where downtown becomes very seedy and not particularly safe.
Shawn spent the weekend in a studio in Gastown and came home raving about the heritage buildings and cobblestone streets. His enthusiasm is infectious and my dreams of gardens and space for the puppies have turned to dreams of brick walls and converted lofts and exposed beams. Yes, in two days my dreams have changed.
Lisa commented on Monday's post, calling my volte-face "caprice." I like that. It sounds so much better than "fickle" or "flighty" or "fucking impossible to please, Hillary, make up your damn mind already."
There is a quote by Horace that resonates with me. "Romae rus optas, absentem rusticus urbem tollis ad astra levis" loosely translated as: In Rome you long for the country, in the country you laud the distant city to the stars.
I grew up in the suburbs and couldn't wait to move to the city. I lived in the city and craved the countryside. I lived in England and ached for Vancouver. I live in BC and I long for England. It's frustrating for those who have to put up with me, yes, but it is even more frustrating to be the one who feels this way. It's not about wanting more or never being satisfied. It's about wanting to feel settled. Wanting to feel like I am home.
Which is a bit silly, right? I know that a perfect location does not equal a perfect home or a settled home or settled mind. But there is still a small part of me that hopes it does.