Life in the Cheese Drawer

i love going on trips. i love coming home. but i’m always sad about coming home, even if i love it at the same time. it makes me realize that i should go more places and see more things, but i just don’t have the time or money to do so. i know we only have this one life and we should grasp it as much as possible. but what does it say that every time i’m in some place new, a part of me just wants to be in the black hills on vacation instead? and is it that makes me think that i’m more than content just sitting on my patio on a warm june evening, watching the sun set with a fire crackling? 
time moves much more quickly than one thinks, and i think vacations are the real proving point to that. our daily routines are just a way to make us a little more complacent about time and how it moves. if every day is similar and falls into patterns, we aren’t aware of how much time has passed. but seeing how quickly our time away from routine goes, it’s a little terrifying. i’ve been planning my trip for months – almost 9 months in advance. and it crept up quickly and happened so fast. i have my memories and momentos, but the moment’s past. 
and so we keep chugging away at our routines, aware but unaware of how time is chipping away at our lives, one second at a time.