Home

Is New York my home? I came back from vacation not knowing. When I moved 7 months ago, I unpacked my things and got to know my neighborhood like every other new home, but somehow it wasn't enough. Home is a strange thing. I took for granted that the feeling I had in my Dad's house growing up would follow me.

It didn't follow me here. I felt more at home with David in Andorra (a country I didn't know existed until a few months ago) than I do in New York. Still, I love New York. It's an odd delimna. For now, I guess I'm more comfortable not having a choice of whether or not to live in such wonderful displacement.