Often we are pulled between two places. Tell us about them. Give us the pull, the conflict, the desire.
Oh, Philadelphia. You feature so prominently on my blog that I wonder if people actually think I live there. Well, no, actually I live about forty minutes away firmly tucked into the suburbs. What a tragedy my 16 year old self would have said, with her high ideals and love for city life. Small teacher’s salary be damned, 16 year old Kendall would have found a way to settle her behind in some city somewhere.
I grew up in New Jersey with two very city-oriented parents. Never mind that they too grew up in the suburbs, my mom in the suburbs of New York City and my dad in Delaware fairly close to Philadelphia. We spent at least one Saturday or Sunday a month in the city visiting museums, trying new restaurants, and soaking up the city life. I naturally thought that I would grow up, get a job in a major metropolitan city, and have the kind of life you see in Glamour magazine.
With great confidence I can say it didn’t and won’t work out that way. I am currently sitting in my very suburb apartment and there are no plans for city life in my future. Sometimes that makes me sad; I love the hustle and bustle of city life. I thrive off constant movement and new and exciting things. I always want to try something new and different at least once and just to see if I like it. People seem to dress better in a city or maybe it’s just that there are fewer, if any, big box stores in a city so less chance of wearing your pjs and yoga pants out of the house.
As wonderful as it would be to call Philadelphia or New York or any major city my home, I’m still happy to live in my little Jersey suburb. The cost of living is just right, I can drive down country roads, and escape people in my quiet country apartment. Philadelphia living will always be my dream but I’m okay with my quiet suburban life.
This post is prompted by Megan of Freckled Italian’s OFFA post-writing prompts. It’s a great series so check it out!