Last night Sarah, Maggie and I had dinner together. It was our last proper hang out before Maggie moves into a tent for the summer. In the fall she moves to New York. Sarah is also planning on moving within the year. We talked about many things last night but the place topic stuck with me. That was when my heart threaten to leap from my body. That was when I felt unsafe and worried and like I needed a solution. I glanced from Maggie to Sarah, Sarah to Maggie and saw two young beautiful women with their lives just beginning and full of what-ifs. Full of questions, mystery and hope. It is still okay for either of them to uproot and start over. That is actually the point. They are still gathering information. They are still growing. Up. Out. And away. But I am full grown. I am supposed to be fully formed by now. I should be describable, pin-down-able, articulated. And on most subjects I am. But when it comes to place, I am just as flimsy and persuadable as the twenty-somethings across the dinner table. Maybe more so. How do I reconcile my need for answers with my desire to keep questioning? What do I want more, to know or to wonder?