Take Me Home

There are times I wonder if life would have been different. I think everyone does, but it seems as though the thought has been biting at my mind more often as of late. 

I wonder if I had not met Richard, where I would be. 

I probably wouldn't be living in Rome of all places. I would probably still be somewhere in the south central United States.

Rome. A city of romance, of history, of endless depth. People have walked the streets for millennia. How is it then I still feel alone in its narrow streets? How is it that I feel so distant from humanity even as I live in the crucible of civilization? 

Don't get me wrong, I love Richard; I couldn't see myself without him. 

He is a strong man, a provider. He has always been there for me when I needed him, and he has been a wonderful husband; an even greater father to our children. 

So why the second guessing? Is it just that time in my life where I look back and wonder if it was all worth it? 

I'm not even half way and I'm wondering if I've made the right choices. 

Do I feel as though I have passed the point of no return? 

Have I? 

No. I suppose I haven't. 

There is always a choice. There is always time to change. If I truly didn't want this, I would just get up and go. The children are out of the house, they would understand. 

Richard though, he wouldn't.

It's not that I don't want to live my life with him. It's that he's unmoving, a statue in the crowd. He is magnificent. He is the center of attention, the mesmerizing force to anyone nearby. But he is perpetually rooted to this place. To Rome. 

That is it I suppose. I've been uprooted, and my greenery is shriveling and falling from tattered branches. I yearn for my home soil. He won't bring me, and so I must do what is necessary. 

I have been faithful. 

I have been true to him.

It's about time I'm true to myself. 

The End

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