by the grace of God, i've somehow managed to escape a family history of clinical depression, addictions and mental health issues. but today, i realized a genetic pre-disposition i have thanks to my father:
wanderlust.
no one is surprised that is in my list of character traits. but until today, i never realized just how much i am my father's daughter.
"well ... if i sell the house in Costa (Rica), I'm going to buy in Florence, Italy."
wait, what?
As far as I know, my father has never even been to Europe, much less a specific town in Italy. more-so, he's not even considering selling his house (that is paid for in full), in Costa Rica. one i have yet to visit, and i am certain that one of these days he will drop off the grid and silently sink into an early retirement incognito as an ex-pat on the Pacific coast of the country.
my daddy works as a tug-boat captain for a company that tows dredging operations and pipeline down the entire atlantic coast, does work in the gulf, or the louisiana delta. he spends 33 days on the boat, and has 14 off; a week of which he spends in Costa Rica, reliving his second childhood, or perhaps midlife crisis. and i totally get it. if i could, i would do it too. this quarter-life crisis is pretty difficult, too.
his citizenship is US, and if he ever moved long term, he would have to come back every 3 months for visa reasons. he has yet to make that move, even though he could have jobs lined up doing fishing charters and living out his dream, because he still wants to be close to my younger half-sister and my niece (his only grandchild). i get that too. i really do.
but throwing in a random comment about moving to Italy?
now, that is so me. it practically mimics the identity crisis i've been writing/talking/praying about for the past month or so, down to my latest random desire (and item on my 3-year timeline i created) to move to London.
suddenly, it all makes sense. in the words of Gaga, "baby, i was born this way."
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