I came back to something familiar after being in an unfamiliar place for a long time. I was afraid I would come home to something different than I remembered, but it is the same. Home has one quality that makes it home to me, and that's safety. I don't have to defend my right to be here, it's a place that I belong to.I like being in far away places very much, but it's important for me to know home is still here. It helps me to be bold, and stable. When it disappears it's going to change me. I know that and I'm afraid of it. It's not exactly a sanctuary, but it's here for me.

People change though, always. Things with people aren't the same anymore, which I guess I should always expect. Relationships start and stop and grow and shrink and drink too much red wine sometimes and dance through displays of christmas lights and do 180s on snowy suburban highways at 3am. And there are always secrets everywhere from everyone, and they surface sometimes like lake monsters and then disappear again, leaving me wondering whether I really glimpsed them at all or if my imagination was just making things out of ripples and driftwood.

And I met someone kind of unexpectedly and wonderfully and perplexingly. And I spent time with him and I talked to him, and he talked to me and we talked to each other and we ate sushi and smoked sheesha and sat on the top of a snowy hill on some crazy carpets to watch the frozen sky turn purple and the street lights turn on. He talks about the economy and he likes Waking life and the tragically hip, and discussing nietzsche and he has a dog named holly and he picks up her poop in a little plastic bag when he takes her for a walk. And he laughs a lot - he has a wonderful laugh and when I hear it it makes me happy and excited. I've felt so betrayed and jaded in the last few months, and when he put his arm around me and rubbed my elbow I think it healed something important.

And, miraculously, I think he likes me too. I throw people off somehow. Often times people are unsure how to react to me, no matter how desperately hard I try to be transparent. But I think he likes that. I am unintentionally unconventional and awkward and he interprets it as mysteriousness, which is just fine by me. Perfect, really. And the inevitable catch? I am getting on a plane tomorrow and not returning for a long time. In his words - "what unfortunate fortune."

All of this has been so fleeting.