Today marks exactly one year since Tom and I packed up our things and left Fargo. One year of living in El Paso... ugh. It's gone by quickly, faster than I thought it would. It doesn't feel like a year. It's a good thing in some ways (knocking out time until we can leave forever) and bad in others (my babies are getting big too fast!)
I feel a lot older than I did a year ago. Of course, I did turn 25 and so I'm officially an old person. Besides that I just feel... maybe older isn't the right word. Maybe it would be better to say more mature. Yes, that's it. I feel more mature. I've changed a lot of things in my life, and gained some new persepectives. I'm a lot happier with myself than I have been in the past. I think the realization that surprised me the most is that when I think of coming home for good, I think of Fargo. When we left I was pretty sure I wanted to get out of that town forever, to find a place that was more than a speck on the map and never look back. And I think that if we had stayed there and never left, I would have continued to hate it and resented everything about it. But I'm glad I've had the opportunity to live somewhere else and make the decision that Fargo is really where I want to be.
So... one year down, and I don't know how many to go. I still hate El Paso with a passion, and I hope I never say I've gotten used to scary Mexican drivers, an overabundance of tortillas, and a lack of white people. I also hope I never say that I love Army life. I'm not saying it's been horrible or anything... but Army folk are not my folk... sometimes it's like living at Camp Redneck. If I never have to see another ankle tattoo or wifebeater again... one year down, one year down.
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