Moving On

I was that kind of person, that would arrive out of nowhere, and stay only a short while, saying nothing to anyone, apart from 'yes' and 'no' and 'thanks'. Then I would head for a door or a street, or a wilderness and not look back. Now I am much settled and will talk to any stranger, chatter on about every mundane thing. I have friends; a family. Sometimes I grow quiet, pondering upon that kind of person I once was, I then secretly look for a way out, out there where I kept moving on. At such times, discerning my thoughts, my wife cracks open a cold one for me. she hands me the beer, and says: "You did move on."