Two different times, I subjected my wife to living with my parents. It helped that my parents loved her and, well, offered or allowed us back. We also lived together in two different suburbs of our hometown, as well as the Millennium Park neighborhood of Orlando, Temple City in the San Gabriel Valley, and Van Nuys in the San Fernando Valley. We packed a lot of boxes.
Maybe we're nomadic gypsies at heart. Maybe we just always felt like round pegs in square holes, and were incapable of feeling "in place," besides with each other. Maybe we just wanted to feel like we were getting somewhere. Maybe she was just following me, or vice versa. Maybe we were running away. Maybe we'd just watched The Muppet Movie one too many times and figured the "Rainbow Connection" to be a physical place. Maybe I've listed enough possible reasons why, and should move on.
Now all I can think about is the places she'll never see, that we talked about moving to or visiting, and the places she can't ever revisit. It felt much less ridiculous to go to the Renaissance Festival in garb with her to look ridiculous with me. And it seemed much less insane moving cross-country without jobs or apartments holding her hand. Then those things felt "cool," and I mean those air quotes. I think the point that I'm coming to is that I'm going to have to learn how to have a good time duhn-Duhn-DUHNNN!....by myself! That blows.
Gonzo sang it best: "Come and go with me / it's more fun to share / We'll both be completely / at home in midair."
Even Gonzo gets a pensive moment once in a while.
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I hope you brought enough comment to share with the whole class!