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Home...
and yet not.
I am home from a wonderful weekend in Minneapolis. I saw good and dear friends that I haven't seen in a year and a half, I laid some ghosts to rest, and I hugged and laughed and loved.
Now I'm in that liminal stage of home-and-yet-quite-not, the feeling I suffer every time I return from travel. This time, that feeling of dislocation is much stronger - I know there's a good portion of my heart still in MSP.
I'm still processing a lot of what happened and what was felt this weekend. I hope to talk about it soon. I will leave you with this - it was the best time I could ever have hoped for.
I am home from a wonderful weekend in Minneapolis. I saw good and dear friends that I haven't seen in a year and a half, I laid some ghosts to rest, and I hugged and laughed and loved.
Now I'm in that liminal stage of home-and-yet-quite-not, the feeling I suffer every time I return from travel. This time, that feeling of dislocation is much stronger - I know there's a good portion of my heart still in MSP.
I'm still processing a lot of what happened and what was felt this weekend. I hope to talk about it soon. I will leave you with this - it was the best time I could ever have hoped for.
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Now I'm in that liminal stage of home-and-yet-quite-not, the feeling I suffer every time I return from travel. This time, that feeling of dislocation is much stronger - I know there's a good portion of my heart still in MSP.
I relate to this on such a deep level. When I came back to Cali last summer after being in Connecticut, I felt exactly the same way. I still call Connecticut "home" even though I've been here now for almost two years. (Wow. Two years. That's crazy.)