I’ve written here before about how much I dislike shopping, and the fact that I did so much of it this weekend is a testament to how much I love my friend Jenny. Truthfully, it was the most painless kind of shopping there is- wandering in to little shops with no particular goal and nothing scheduled for the rest of the afternoon.

I bought a great bag for fall, perfect for the farmers market or an afternoon at the beach. I also fell in love with a beautiful blanket and have thought of little else since convincing myself that I didn’t need it.

The thing is, I don’t need any more bags. I have so many lovely bags that Erin couldn’t help rolling her eyes at me in unsurprise when Jenny and I returned home. And honestly, I have enough of blankets and throws to set up a Red Cross shelter.

I’ve spent some time thinking in the last 24 hours and I’ve realized that my attraction to blankets and bags might be rooted in the twin, conflicting desires that are currently raging inside me. The desire to nest and the desire to flee.

I’ve always had very particular ideas about what my home should be like. Put together but not fussy. Comfortable but never sloppy or messy. Uncluttered but filled with books and art. A place where friends feel welcomed to casual weekly dinner parties with great, simple food and hilarious and thoughtful conversation.

And that, all of that, is what I think about when I see beautiful, soft throw. Most people see a blanket- I see roasted chicken and Sunday afternoons falling asleep on the couch with a book in my hand. So I buy more blankets than I need and it makes me feel cozy and safe.

Bags are at the opposite end of comfort spectrum. Bags are about going. To the beach, a concert in the park, to the DMV. Bags are possibilities. Places I could be that aren’t here. Fresh starts with people who don’t know every bad thing I’ve ever done, said, thought.

These conflicting drives have ruled my life for as long as I can remember. During my twenties, my flight instinct won every time. I didn’t want to be held down, held back. The very idea of settling on just one life, one city, one career, one partner seemed so unnecessary and cruel. I wanted to experience everything- good or bad- and then rush on to the next thing, the next apartment, the next relationship. It was a kind of happiness and I felt so lucky not to be weighed down.

My thirties have been much more about nesting, about building a life. Giving myself time to breathe. Appreciating my friends more. Learning to love and crave routine. But I never managed to totally eradicate my restlessness. When things went very wrong, I’d find myself considering the merits of strange, new cities. Wondering if I could still fit everything I owned into my car. Checking out apartment listings in San Francisco or Chicago.

A few months ago, Patrick and I realized that our relationship wasn’t working and that we wanted very different things from the rest of our lives. Neither of us did anything wrong exactly, but we weren’t doing a whole lot right either. Although it was painful and difficult and sad, we decided to go our separate ways.

I haven’t written about this before because it was too soon and too painful. And because Patrick and I needed our privacy and space to work out the details. Unraveling two lives that have been intertwined for four years isn’t easy, especially when there are children and animals to think of. We haven’t nailed down all the details yet, but we’re close.

And now I find myself once again struggling with the desire to nest and the desire to flee. Of course, there’s my flock to think of now, so fleeing has taken on an entirely different meaning. I’m not sure where we are going to end up. Staying on Martha’s Vineyard is a possibility. So is moving to Texas to be closed to my Mama and sister, and my father. Moving to Virginia, where the rest of my family lives, is another.

I’ve been struggling with this for a while now and not getting anywhere very fast. Last week, a good friend asked me what I would do if money wasn’t an issue, and, without thinking about it at all, I said I’d stay on the Vineyard. Not forever maybe, but for now.

In the next couple of weeks I’ll be making some decisions about the future of the farm. The important thing is that there will be a farm somewhere. I’ll let you know how it shakes out.

The last few months have been hard but I’m actually pretty excited about this next adventure. Fall has always felt like the beginning of something to me but especially so this year. Whatever the future holds, I’m ready for it.

UPDATE: I guess I should have mentioned that the only motivation I have for leaving the Vineyard now is financial. I totally agree with the idea of taking a year to sort things out, just don’t know if it’s feasible.

Also, thanks so much for the emails about how perfect your nephew/cousin/friend/neighbor/self would be for me. It’s sweet of you to think of me and I’m sure he’s amazing. I’m not there yet, but it’s good to know that there are so many available men around if I ever am.

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