There is a point when you're driving south on I-25, when the whole of Santa Fe fits in the rearview mirror. If it's night, you can see all the lights, and if it's day, the Sangre de Cristo mountains. I saw this familiar sight on Saturday night, and it made me smile, until I realized I didn't know when I would ever see it again, and it was like a little part of me folded up inside.
Boy-Creature and I went there for a little weekend trip, which was too short and long overdue. It turned out to be perfect timing, too, since one of our closest friends who lived there moved back to her native Connecticut the same day we left. Another friend drove up from Las Cruces as well, and at least part of our little group from college was reunited. And who knows when that'll happen again. Everyone, it seems, is scattering to the winds.
Even we might be pulling up stakes sometime this year. There's been talk of Austin or New Orleans, or maybe even out to the east coast, since we're both thinking of grad schools out there (Don't worry, Mama, Toulane isn't ruled out yet). Who knows what'll happen, or if it'll even happen. It's not a great time to be quitting your job and wandering across the country, after all. It's funny, though. The whole weekend, my friends in Santa Fe kept telling me I wouldn't feel the same if I actually lived there, that I'd get sick of it just like they did. I don't think I would, though. I loved that city before I ever went to school there (in fact it's the very reason I went to school there), and I only found more to love about it when I did. Those are the things I love the most, too. The things I discovered on my own, that weren't just nostalgic memories. But now that the idea of moving is on the table, I don't know what I want to do, or where I want to go. But I'm thinking about it.