D@mn That Grass.

It’s always green somewhere in the world–only never where I am.

I have lived my life holding strong to the mantra “the grass is always greener on the other side of the hill.” I don’t mean to do this; I know it’s totally fickle of me, and nobody likes a fickle woman {though some in my acquaintance would profess that “fickle woman” is totally redundant}.

Only in my case, the grass is always greener on the other side of the border. Any border. I always want to be wherever I’m not–it’s a wretched affliction, truly. During July, outside of Arizona the grass will surely be greener. But amidst the frigid Canadian winters, there’s no place I long to be more than my lush green City of Mesa.

It doesn’t just have to do with the weather, however. When I am living the life of a single wife, visiting friends and family in Arizona, I miss Poor Kyle terribly and can hardly wait to see him again. But inevitably, as I re-pack my bags the night before I’m scheduled to return to his country, I once again mourn the loss of my family. I have two families, you know, and both of them love me so very much.

I would that everybody’s trials could be so simple as deciding which loved ones to visit.

Of course there’s really no question: I married Poor Kyle and now I’m stuck with him (hello dear!). I am stuck with him, but the phrase “stuck with” implies that it’s against my will. I should say I’m stuck to him [but actually, that sounds a little less G-rated than I normally try to keep this blog. Dang]. Well at any rate, he and I will “be an item” forever, and not once have I regretted my choice to be his wife. *Mushy alert: I love him more with nearly every day that passes. I never even knew that having an understanding, calm and patient disposition would be a requirement of the man I married–it just happened that way, and I can see now it was absolutely necessary. In case any of you noticed, I’m not exactly the easiest person with whom to live. And that’s the understatement of infinity.

I only wish that “cleaving unto my husband” as is preached in the Bible, didn’t require to take me so far away from everyone else I dearly, dearly love.

I’m lucky I’ve been able to come down and visit so frequently this past year. To everyone I was able to bond with for the last two weeks: Thank you. I love you. I’ll miss you. To those of you who I wanted to spend more time with, but was forced–for one reason or another–to neglect: I’m sorry. I love you. I’ll miss you. And to anyone else who had hoped to meet/see/visit me and was totally shafted by how busy I was {I really don’t know any person more vain than myself, to think of a whole city full of people who are sad they didn’t get to see me this month}: I regret that, too.

Maybe for Christmas…

About Camille

I'm Camille. I have a butt-chin. I live in Canada. I was born in Arizona. I like Diet Dr. Pepper. Hello. You can find me on Twitter @archiveslives, Facebook at facebook.com/archivesofourlives, instagram at ArchivesLives, and elsewhere.
This entry was posted in Canada, change, failures, I hate change, introspection, sad things, the great state of AZ, what I'm about, woe is me. Bookmark the permalink.

12 Responses to D@mn That Grass.

  1. Kim says:

    I’m going to look up that song Camille!! Just as soon as my boss’ leave the office for lunch :-)

    I hear ya on having two homes, its hard to live away from your family, I miss mine terribly, especially during the holidays!

  2. Anonymous says:

    Doesn’t ambivalence suck? You’re lucky to be able to come here so much.

    I looked for the link to lindsey’s blog and it wasn’t there. Then noticed you had changed her name and moved it. How prompt you are.


  3. Camille says:

    Kim–It will change your life!!!

    bRAD–Sometimes I like ambivalence, and sometimes I don’t. (I had to look up the definition of it in order to crack that joke!) Anyway, yes. I’m prompt. And I decided to give someone else a turn at the top. Mixin’ it up. That’s life.

  4. Katie says:

    My husband and I had to move across the country when we got married so that he could attend graduate school. We liked it so much we actually bought a house here and are putting down some pretty good roots. BUT, not a day goes by that I don’t wish my family were closer. Something about just knowing they are within driving distance would make me so happy.

    I know how you feel.

  5. Anonymous says:

    How sad I would be if my children ever moved away and I couldn’t see them daily. I know it will eventually happen, but I don’t look forward to it.

  6. Holly Janeen says:

    whats with me commenting on previous blog entries? i really need to repent… but this comment goes with the swimsuit blab…
    i just wanted to say that yesterday i was driving and saw some guys running around with shirts off in spandex… when was THAT ever ok? (i mean, its just not MY cup of tea, but whatever!!)i mean, this is Utah… isnt there a law against shirtless- tight spandex pant wearing- scandelous jogging men?? seriously, folks!
    im lucky i didnt have nightmares.

  7. Kathryn says:

    Thanks for the iheartmesa shout out. Mesa loves you too.

  8. Anonymous says:

    I know how that feels. But, at least I don’t leave a country away from my family. That’s great that you get to visit them that often!

  9. Heber Austin says:

    I didn’t feel shafted… I was pleasantly surprised. Oh, and from forever ago, the child locks were able to be deactivated.

  10. Niki (Crum) Worthen says:

    i’m sorry you have to deal with that. my sis lives away and it’s really hard on her. on a lighter note, i tagged you. check my blog for details.

  11. Anonymous says:


    I totally understand how you feel. Well, maybe not totally, but I can certainly empathize a great deal. I hate it when you’re gone! Life is so much bleaker without you around. When I go to Bath and Body Works for my free Wallflower, I am forced to go only with Pres. It’s a sad, sad day when you leave. At least you’ll be back in less than two months. Six weeks, really. I’ll be counting down the days. And I think this time I’m going to make a list of everything we will do while you’re here; it seems like we always forget something!

  12. Pingback: I Love You So Much It’s Almost Cliché | Archives of Our Lives

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