The park we visited Saturday offered a great view of the Madison skyline, which until then I’d only seen while approaching the isthmus via John Nolen Drive.
I’ve lived in Madison nearly seven years, the longest I’ve lived anywhere as an adult, yet I still don’t think of it as home. I guess I’m uprooted in some ways – I grew up in Iowa City but that’s not really home anymore. The family house I grew up in is gone, and my grandparent’s places are either sold or unrecognizable. The only consistent home left from my youth belongs to my best friend’s parents, and while they’re very welcoming, I don’t think they’d be into me setting up camp in one of their kids’ old bedrooms.
I’m not sure why I don’t feel connected to Madison. I have love here, and great friends. There’s a lot to enjoy about this city. Yet still, there’s a rift between us. I don’t have that proprietary warmth for Madison that I had for Lawrence or even Cleveland. I feel rudderless here, adrift.
I’m not sure where I do want to live, but I know I don’t want to spend the rest of my life here, or even the rest of my 30s. But to leave I have to figure out where I do want to go, and get the person I want to go with me to agree. And that will be no easy task.