All the old familiar places

I love travel.

I love adventure.

I love pictures of the places I've visited.

I love imagining myself as an independent free spirit.

I like trying new things. (Everybody notice the shift there? Ok, moving on.)

But right now? Right now I am craving old books that I've read before many times. There are so many new books on my reading list, but all I want is the comfortable, familiar road to Bag End. I want to spend time in my parents old, not so terribly drafty house that is always warm. (Not just physically warm, though that is a perk. There is something about it that just comfortable about it that I miss.) I want to sit for hours at Panera Bread (stuffing my face with the Bacon Turkey Bravo sandwich with Broccoli Cheddar soup, of course), talking about nothing and everything with excellent friends. I want to walk the roads of Islington once again, knowing that I will hit at least 3 mini-marts on my way to St. Giles and, 15 minutes past the church find a bookstore and a shoe store. And also know that across the street from St. Giles there is a kind family with a magical table that fits all of their friends, good food, conversation and games every Sunday afternoon. I want to be able to say to my friends, "See you in 20 minutes" and actually show up, not 2 hours later or only on Saturday's and Sunday's.

I want to know that I didn't waste my life. I want to know that I didn't go to school just to go to school, but because I was meant to go to school. I want to travel more, not just to travel (because Heaven knows traveling these days is almost more stress than it is worth!), but because my future might be somewhere else then where I am now.

And the whole not being able to see into the future? Not knowing where I will end up, what failures I will make, what successes I might have? Not being 100% sure of my path in life?

It makes me long for all the old familiar places.