Home is… (according to Google suggestions at 9:18pm PDT on August 26th, 2010.)
When I first moved to USF in the fall of ’96, I held fast to the notion that San Francisco wasn’t home. While I did live there, I didn’t feel that qualified the city to be considered home. I would correct people, much in the same way I correct people who call me “Dave”.
I’m not a “Dave”, I’m a “David”.
I was excited to visit home, Los Angeles, that winter. I was excited to see my family, my friends, all the loved ones I had left behind.
It was incredible seeing how much changed in the short time I had been away, myself included. My family’s house, the place I called home, felt foreign and unfamiliar. It wasn’t unwelcoming, but I didn’t quite feel relaxed. Perhaps it was because I knew my time there was short, that I would be leaving again. Perhaps it was because my familiarities were altogether different, my routines changed.
That’s not to say the visit itself was unenjoyable. There was a realization, however, that Los Angeles wasn’t quite home anymore. Los Angeles became “where I am from”. Likewise, San Francisco went from “where I live” to “home”.
Slowly my possessions make their way out of the boxes they were packed in. The cats continue to relax further each day as these familiar items settle. More and more I recognize neighborhood people with each visit to the store or La Oficina. I’m finding myself falling into routines.
I was finally able to set up my internet connection at #104 tonight. Each check off of my to-do list feels like a milestone and brings me one step closer to calling this place home.
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