There's no place like home.

I drove myself back to The Beach yesterday. I've been staying with good friends since I got here and waiting for "the feeling" to hit me. The feeling that tells me I'm home. The feeling that makes everything all right, perfect. It hasn't yet. If anything, driving around this place kind of feels like visiting my old high school haunts...or something along those lines. Every street corner is so familiar and crowded with memories, but clearly feels like a place from my past.

After 6 or so hours of driving yesterday I did something I never do. I turned off the radio and drove the last hour in silence. It was beautiful. A perfect hour of peace that surrounded me and filled up all the spaces of my car. I had had ideas pass through my mind all day, or rather day dreams, but in that last hour I thought clear, concise thoughts. Thoughts that mattered. Thoughts that meant something to me then and even now, today.

I realized before I even reached The Beach that no matter where I land next it won't feel like home. At least not right away. The road has become my home. The airport is my living room and hallway. Random couches and hotels have become my bedroom. My life fits best into a 22" x 14" piece of luggage. Wanderlust has become my lifestyle.

No place like home...

I realized a couple of days ago why coming back to The Beach was so easy; why it felt so right. I was (or still am) staying at The Little Apartment. A friend of mine moved into The Little Apartment when I moved out and now I'm staying at her place as a guest. When I first walked in it felt as though I were walking into a new house. New decorations were on the walls and a different aura surrounded the place. And yet it felt so much like coming home. And at the best possible time, I might add. A time when I desperately needed a break from my life.

And so whether I am in The Country or back at The Beach, there is no feeling like coming home. And no place like it, either.