While driving from my mom’s to Chicago last night I began thinking about periods of transitions. I have this recurring conversation with my friends about a general dissatisfaction with my life. It’s not one thing I can pinpoint like job, friends or love life, but an overall sense the direction of my life is off. Off what, I can’t say. Off track, unfocused, incomplete, I don’t know. But when I was driving and remembering all the times I’ve made the trip from the city to home (because for me the Illinois Valley will always be home, no matter where I make my life) I thought about how transitory my life is. College was the awkward and exhilarating time of defining my life on my own, jumping from dorm to dorm, apartment to apartment. Then graduation cut me adrift again into a career that was unexpected and still new. I haven’t settled yet. I haven’t dug in really. I plan to be at my current job for a long time but I haven’t made plans for what that means, move closer, find a more permanent place to live, set up shop, make a life. For so long I’ve been living my life as it comes, living for myself. At what point do we stop living our lives in transit, moving from one stop to the next, high school, college, job, spouse, house, kids and start making life what we wish it to be?