It's strange how it can hit you like a ton of bricks.
It's even stranger not exactly to know where to call home.
I've lived in Hood River for over a year, but I still think of Alaska as home. How long does it take for that to change? This is clearly where my life is now, but maybe not my whole heart.
I think Homer will always have a piece of it, like a first love.
It can be triggered by a friend talking about it on facebook. Or it can be a picture. A dream. Or a certain part of town. Josh and I were out on a drive, and I was gazing out the window, my mind not on anything, really. Suddenly, I realized I thought I was in Homer. The hills we were passing looked just like the ones out east end. I teared up. It's been so long since I've been back.
But sometimes the memory of something needs to stay just that.
I'm not saying I'll never go back to Homer. But it's very dangerous to expect the same experiences out of a place you know so well when you revisit it. That happened at school. I went back for a second year, excited to re-live my first year at Ecola. Even if you are in the same place with the same people, you will not have the same experiences. Sounds pretty straight forward, right? It's odd, but I think this has always been a hard concept for me to accept.
I'm changing over all of my identity this week. I procrastinated it for over a year, but I legally got my name changed over, and tomorrow, my car registration, license....stuff like that. I know its silly, but it will be sad to look at my car and not see the Alaska plates anymore. Bittersweet.
But, no matter where I am, I miss someone. It's days like this that make me long for Home. For sweet rest. For no more goodbyes.