There’s a part of me that wishes I could move somewhere new and start over. I’ve always pictured myself living in a city, a place I rarely visit, but the thought of walking to work, with lots of people around me, and stopping to pick up a day’s worth of groceries on my way home seems charming. I found east coast, sea-side quaint cottages, and pictured sitting on the porch reading, and enjoying the salty air. While pursuing my move back to New York, I found an amazing home on a pond and pictured myself walking along the shore on cool mornings, deep in thought. I’ve thought about moving to Alaska and having adventure after adventure. These are all someplace new, and new beginnings, but none would be starting over, because going back and doing things differently isn’t possible. I’d be starting forward, something I can do anywhere, at any time, and should do often, putting things behind me and leaving them there, rather than in a suitcase and carrying them with me. Moving me is still the same old me, just in a new location. Changing me becomes new me, different location or not. Starting forward; full of possibilities!