This is probably going to come off all ghey, but...

I had a bit of a moment coming back from Kingston last weekend.

(minor back story: I went to see my parents over the weekend, and also stopped off in Kingston on the way back for Jenna's bday)

Anyway, I noticed that almost from the moment I arrived in Kingston, I was plotting my departure... and for the first time I can remember, I didn't stay until the absolute last conceivable moment. Now, when I think about it, Kingston had always been a kind of oasis for me. A place where I could almost go back in time and live freely and without worries or responsibilies. A kind of Neverland, really.

I guess my point is that I'm glad my life is at such a point where I don't feel the need to squeeze every last drop out of my little escapes from reality. In fact, that there are even reasons that I want to come home!

Part must be that "growing up" thing I've heard so much about...