On the Subject of Removing a Limb to Preserve the Body

It seems like it wasn't too long ago now that the thought of leaving my hometown was something that I dreamed about. I was impatient for it. Incredibly so, in fact. I remember the thought of being delayed even for a year for a nursing contract was almost unbearable, when I found out that was a possibility. It's funny to think that if I had continued down that path, I might already be gone. Where to, I don't know. I don't have much anywhere else-- certainly, I had even less at the time.

I guess at the time the allure of something completely new drew me in. A new start, a chance to do things without the weight of any preconceived notions. I wanted to go North-- I think I thought it would be better there. Not perfect, but better. 

Now, time is coming for me to leave. Not only that, but it seems like I might have to leave. And I can't stop mourning. It should be a happy thing. I'd even go so far as to say that I'm fairly confident it's the "right" choice, insofar as such a thing can be said to exist. But this is my home. I've lived here my whole life- put down roots here- have so many family and friends here. I know how things work here, and what's more, despite all its flaws, I've realized that I love it. Isn't it funny, that that's the kind of realization that happens only just when you're about to lose it?