Well, I'm here. After exactly twelve hours of driving, with a few stops in between for my rambunctious travel companion Brooklyn (my dog), I finally made it home. Home? Well, the city/state where I was born. I had mixed feelings about the trip all along. I haven't been "home" in a while and for good reason. It's a cool place - love the cheesesteaks and Italian water ice... always love seeing Boathouse Row, especially at night when it's all lit up. The City of Brotherly Love is really a place of beauty in the summertime. Sometimes I do miss it.
But most times I don't. Whenever I come "home" I feel out of it. I dunno. It's almost like I'm having an out-of-body experience: I'm here, but I'm not here, you know? It doesn't feel totally real, totally authentic to my senses. How can I describe it a little better... Umm... like I'm sleepwalking?
And I always feel like a visitor! I forget how to get to this place and that place, totally forget the name of other places... what part of the city they're in. Man, so many things about the city have become foreign to me. (Should I note that as a sign of something?)
I'm going to try and enjoy my summer here for as long as I am here because it's just temporary. I don't think I could actually move back and settle here ("settle" being the operative word). I would feel like I was working backwards.
Yes, you can go home sometimes, but just because you can doesn't mean you should.
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