i am not here anymore.

yesterday i left my home of six years. i walked down the sidewalk i've walked down so many times, and in my heart i blew a kiss to the place before putting the last box of books in my car and driving off.

that was yesterday, but i think that really i left a long time ago. since january, i've felt like i am not here anymore, like my life isn't here anymore, but somewhere else. one problem. i haven't found that somewhere quite yet...

have you ever felt that way before? that your things and your body and all your "stuff" is in one place, but the essence, or the heart, or whatever it is that makes a place home is no longer where all your stuff is? can leave you with a bit of a sense of emptiness, and a lot of a sense of adventure as you journey out to find the next life you are to live.

so i have moved home, home to my real house where my family is until i can find the place where my future is so teasingly hiding from me.

there are a lot of things i like about being home:

there are always sparkly clean glasses in the cupboard.

there is dinner at six every night, and it always includes at least two vegetables and a fruit.

the sheets smell good.

there are little girls running around all the time.

you can take a nap on the couch and not feel lonely (i always feel so lonely when i take naps in a bed)

my mom hugs me when i come home from work.

i can fit inside the washing machine (which, for those of you who haven't lived in an apartment for a while, means that i only have to do one load of laundry instead of four)

the yard is big and green, and behind: a garden with real raspberry bushes and blossoming peach trees!

a bosendorfer with 88 blacks and ivories

and most of all the love love love

i feel safe here.

here is where i will hibernate,

incubate,

and build up my ammo for the future.

(peu, peu!)

(that was a gun noise, for those of you who couldn't tell)