I found this line in a Slate column:

To go home as an adult is always to imagine another life one could have lived.

How true. Always as I pull into the driveway of my CT home I think how life used to be when I called it my full-time residence — both before college, when I went through the motions of 12 years of school, always having a next year plan; and after, when I was at home for 3 months desperately trying to escape to New York. I recently went to the big high school 5 year reunion; hanging out at an open bar with people from that era has made me curious about missed connections and friendships and relationships with people who shared that “home.”

I think how suburban – routine? – life would be there now. And I think about how life would be if I’d chosen a different college, a different major, job, friends. But that’s common, right? I only wonder if perhaps I stay too long in the “what if” world rather than committing to and plunging forward with the “what now.”

This feeling has only become more poignant with all the traveling I did over the holidays, and with losses that made that time with such intimately familiar people and places even more sentimental.

Right now I’m at the beginning of a new life; I just wish I knew how to pick the right one.

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