home

It's been ages since my last post - I barely know where to begin.

At the present, I'm sitting on the floor of my old bedroom in my parents' house. My computer is on the carpet, and the only other things in the room are a bed and an abandoned wardrobe. Just a few hours earlier, the movers came and packed up my life into 63 boxes and carted them off in a huge 40 foot container. Because I've been spending the past few days back in Vancouver sorting my things in anticipation of the move, I've gotten very little sleep. The result was an already sleep-deprived me, being deprived of even more sleep. Racoons are jealous of the dark circles around my eyes.

Now that my stuff is gone, I have a sense of relief that the move portion of my trip is over, and I can now focus on my sister's wedding, which happens tomorrow. However, part of me feels a little wistful and unsettled. After a month of being on the road (or "on airplanes," as it were) between Philadelphia and Boston, living out of two suitcases, and eating out at greasy spoons every night, I've been looking foward to coming home. But now, home doesn't seem as much like "home" anymore - but rather, the place that I come to when I want to visit my parents. My mother has started to talk about converting my room into a sewing room, and happy as I am for her that she's starting to embrace being an empty nester, it saddens me to realize that this place, what has been my haven for so long, no matter how long I was away for school or work, really is now "my parents' place."

The idea of not having a home right now (I go back to living in hotel rooms for the next month until my stuff arrives in Boston and I move into my apartment) is kind of jarring, and I'm not certain how to feel about it. One thing I know though - no matter what I call this place, or what incarnation my old bedroom takes on, in my mind, this will always be home.

As soon as the movers drove away and I closed the door after waving them goodbye, I walked into the kitchen where my mom was over the sink, preparing to make a pot of soup. Paperwork in hand, I placed my arms around her and held her in a tight embrace. "I know," she said.