I've been on the edge of crying for most of the day now.

I wish something--anything-- would come along and set me off, cause I could really use a good sorry-ass, blubbering cry about now.

I can feel it inside wanting to be released, putting a strangle hold on the rest of my energy flow.

What brought all this on?

Well. I admitted to mom and dad that I'm trying to come home to New Mexico, that I had talked to Albuquerque public schools, and I'm wanting to get in touch with the school system in Las Cruces also. I don't know. I just admitted it and they were so gung-ho about it, and so almost desperate to have me near again. And while I want nothing more then to be within driving distance of those I love, I also hate that I have ulterior motives. I hate that I feel so broken, I hate that I feel so depressed, that I keep ignoring my melancholy, and the real reason I want to cry so badly, is cause I've admitted to myself, whispered to myself so quietly as to almost not be heard, that the real reason I want to go home is cause I feel as though I'm about to shatter from the inside out, and I want to be close to my family, my support, when that happens. Hopefully only IF that happens, not WHEN.

I called Corazon, and we made plans to talk more extensively later this evening.

I called Kuinileti, I'm not sure If I left a message.

I called David, my first boyfriend, and left him a message that I was trying my hardest to move home.

I called Roy, my second boyfriend, the boyfriend who told me that he would always come back to me if I would only give him the chance, no matter where he was or who he was with, no matter how many years later it took ME to realize he was the one I was meant to be with-- and I was ready to take him up on that point. Like I said, I called-- and another man answered.

I hesitated, and let my tongue tie in knots before I finally got out that I would like to talk to Roy please.

Was it his son, who would be a teenager by now?

Or was it someone else-- a lover.

I was instantly jealous, and knew immediately that the law of the universe has it carved in stone that it MUST be the latter case. We've played phone tag the rest of this day, and have as of yet to actually speak to one another.

I've been hinting here and there that this is what I meant to do. But I had even told myself that it would be another year off before I made the leap. I don't find that to be the case any longer. I find myself not wanting to be here, anywhere without my family, for one second longer. Wanting it so desperately that if I could at this minute sprout wings I'd strap Mia to my back and, leave even my 12 foot long shelf or carefully collected prized cookbooks, be off in the blink of an eye winging my way to the dusty desert of Southern, New Mexico, alighting sometime in the early dawn amongst the roses and Agastache's of my mother's garden that I so carefully helped her plant.

This all has much deeper roots. I came here expecting to form my own family, to have a vast circle of friends with an inner core that would be as a family. And really they are here, and I have met them, but I continually nudge them away, staying only good friends.

I had envisioned moving here and finding a special someone to start our own family, have a cute little craftsman bungalow, wreathed in fabulous cottage style gardens, fresh tomatoes and peppers literally dripping off the vines. Falling asleep gently in each others arms for the wrest of eternity, in a grand four poster bed, wresting on hard wood floors, burnished by the footprints of time together.

It hasn't happened.

That's what you get for being a daydreamer, the world of our reality always seems so pale compared to the images of your dreams, hopes, and wishes.

The world seems so disappointing when your hopes have not been realized, and you find it best to return to your roots, solidly fixed in the dirt of reality. Nearly resigned to be that older gay man who takes care of his elderly parents. The devoted son, of urban legend, that dutifully cares for his loved ones, even as he becomes to old to form a relationship of his own, the son that the neighbors are too naive to realize is gay. They ALWAYS pondering how such a wonderfully kind individual has remained single all these years.

I admitted to Bruce that I'm not sure if I'm in love with Houston, or just in love with living in a big city. We speculated that it was probably the later. I think we were right.

So, I'm moving home. By that I mean New Mexico. Whether that end up being Santa Fe, Albuquerque, or Las Cruces is yet to be seen. I knew I was serious when I agreed to let dad start getting prices on moving trucks on that end.

I think my right foot is firmly planted on this path. But the ball of my left foot is still comfortably laying in Houston. Ready for me to pivot on around, if so need be.