Chapter 9, Wayfarers All

Lately, I have been feeling much as Rat does in the 9th chapter of the Wind in the Willows. I'll explain. In that beautiful chapter of the book, Rat "was restless, and he did not exactly know why." Summer was over, fall was starting to show itself and the hints of winter that come with it. The banks of the river were thinning, the sounds of summer had fallen silent, the robin had showed up again, the large birds were "obedient to the peremptory call" to head south. The swallows tell him about their "stirring within ... a sweet unrest" and Rat realizes that he too is falling under its spell.
I also have found that "that chord hitherto dormant and unsuspected" has been ringing in my head for months now. When I decided to stay in Madrid for another year I didn't count on two things: my trip back to boston, and a sore throat. I have recently, for the past month, since I started teaching, had a sore throat. It has put all my musical aspirations on hold. The doctor says that my vocal chords look clear, and that it is just inflammation (though I suspect a bit of acid reflux as well), and I have been taking medication for both this week. Hopefully it will work its way out soon. Not being able to sing has also taken away my main form of release and stress release. So it hasn't helped. Then my trip to Boston made me restless as well. It brought back a whole load of memories and friendships that I call me back to the North Shore. "Recollections one by one, like homing pigeons. They flutter through our dreams at night, they fly with us in our wheelings and circlings by day."
Once again, my wanderlust has taken a hold on me. I wonder when it will calm down. When I was in high school I figured it was a youthful fancy that would pass with time, only it didn't leave once I got to college, it just got stronger. And now that I am done with school, for the time being at least, I am coming to accept that maybe this wanderlust is a permanent part of my character.
I used to think that perhaps it was just an internalization of my lack of geographical identity, but slowly that has sorted itself out and that identity issue is no longer an issue. But the restlessness remains. What is it that I feel the need to travel for in order to find? Or is there something? Maybe I just get bored with my environment quickly. And yet I don't know if that is it, because I also have a kind of yearning for some sort of permanence. Who knows...
All I know is that I find myself standing on my balcony more and more lately; feeling slightly jealous at the clouds as they float so effortlessly on any breeze that feels strong enough to pull them along.