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I grew up in the Southern part of Queens County, New York. One of the five boroughs, it has it's own unique charms. From the time I was a teenager, I wanted to move to the Rockaway Peninsula, which is as far South as you can go and still be in Queens. It used to be known for having he most undeveloped coastline for the entire East coast. I loved my day trips out there with my best friend, and when the time came that we decided to move out of our childhood homes, that is where we wanted to go.

(It is fitting that this post comes today, as Rockaway was known as the Irish Riviera.)

We moved in February, and it was fantastic. The ocean was a five minute stroll away, the bay was a two minute stroll away. The views... oh the views! Beautiful bridges and lights on the bay side, and just the bliss of ocean and sky on the other...

This post is trying to race out of my head today, and my thoughts are a mess. You see, living in that neighborhood, I discovered what truly brings me peace. Walking. I would walk everywhere. There was nothing like having the sun on your back, the smell and spray of the water, and my headphones pumping in whatever I felt like hearing. It was bliss. I miss it. I ache for the days where I walked along the shore, or even the days I walked along Metropolitan Avenue on my way to work. The sun is shining through the window of my new mountain home, and I miss the smells and sights of home.
The trouble, you see, is that I can't walk here like I did then. There's no boardwalk, or pavement to let me lose focus and let my feet run the show. The terrain is bumpy, and I can't keep a steady pace. I have to pay attention lest I end up in a ditch. Of all the things I could miss of my urban home, I miss the walking most.
I am disgustingly homesick.