I fought it. I wanted to be somewhere new, but I definitely didn’t want to live in North Carolina. I decided to escape to Australia for as long as possible. Three and a half months later, I returned to the US for my sister’s wedding, and to stay. A month after, we started taking pandemic precautions. I still hate North Carolina. I hate the humidity, the abundance of foliage, and the barbecue – this Eastern style vinegar-based stuff is not at all my thing. But it doesn’t so much matter where I am right now, since I am avoiding going out socially until an appropriate COVID-19 prophylactic is available. So regrettably, my vehicle is now registered here; I don’t want to remove the New Mexico plate.
Maybe I should move back to the desert. Northern New Mexico is beautiful, I desperately miss the chile, and Albuquerque is a decent size. I feel a bit sheepish; my mom always wanted us to develop roots somewhere, and I always scoffed at the idea that was even possible. As a result of early opportunities, it was difficult to fathom living in a single place and liking it. It is still somewhat foreign, but I have a deeper appreciation for that kind of sentiment.