For about three days straight now, Sydney has stood at the door with no need of going outside other than to get out there.  She knows that by sitting by the door, staring at me, and cocking her head just ever so slightly to the left, she will get to go outside.  This is her signal.  Finally back on the yellow brick road to being potty trained, she is communicating with me.

Unfortunately, the pup has learned that this signal means outside period.  Not just for potty.  So what does Sydney do in our teeny tiny front yard?  She runs to the fence to look out.  Nothing really changes.  The neighbors are rarely playing in the streets, other dogs are snuggled in their warm homes, content to play and sleep inside.  As I see her run to the fence to look out, I realize that she is more like me than I thought.  I’m constantly running to my fence just to try to look outside.

I have been working in the same job and I have lived in the same home for over three years.  Nothing has changed for me.  Thoughts of traveling, going back to school, carving the life I would most enjoy have gone in and out of my head in the past and now they’re stuck.

I, with everyone else, battled wanderlust as a teenager, but I also had wonderlust after entering college.  This curiosity propelled me to study abroad for a semester, a move that was hard, sometimes lonely, freezingly cold and incredible.  After four months I wanted home again.   Content in my warm comfy state, I finished school and started work.  Now, at 24, the wanderlust is back.  I feel time slipping away.

My fence is constructed out of past commitments, ties to my family and friends, financial restraints, the actual fence (we need to sell the home),  and a fear of loneliness caused by venturing out on my own again.

I know I must find out what lies on the other side.  I have to open that fence for myself, grab Sydney, and we’ll walk through.

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