I'm back home for the first time in over 7 months and I'm a little unsure of what to make of it. My dog remembers me and my dad does too. My room is pretty much how I left it. The Target is now a Super Target across the street from its original location. I didn't notice any other significant changes on the drive back from the airport.
I wish there was somewhere I could walk right now. I am starting to fear that I'll resort to becoming one of those people that goes to Starbucks to read or write. Normally, that's fine... you walked to M Street; it took work to get there. But to drive to Starbucks and sit down for a few hours? That seems different. Repulsively different. It feels good to be back home mostly because I can be coddled by my parents and leave my stuff somewhere knowing that it won't be displaced by the rightful owners of the space. But I actually already resent the doctor appointments that are stacking up and disrupting my plans to see the people I want to see when I'm home.
This summer definitely cemented DC's place as my home. I had the privilege of living in gloriously decrepit Darnall, in the even more run-down S Street house, and in the fresh but prison-like New South. California is good, but I miss everyone already. Talk to you soon.