I spent the weekend in the Bay Area helping a close friend move into his first house. That was Friday and Saturday. Originally, Friday was reserved for a friend who now lives a couple hours outside of San Francisco, but when she fell ill I ended up moving instead. That was the point of my visit anyway.
Sunday, I reserved for visiting with close friends. I drove familiar roads around the city where I lived for so many years, and then the rain began. The light drizzle was a refreshing change from the torrential downpours that have drenched Los Angeles. As I sat in the ‘Breakup Café’ with a large coffee in hand, a feeling of unfamiliarity came over me. After only six months away from this wonderful city, it just didn’t feel the same anymore. I realized that home is where family is and when that isn’t possible, home is where my bed is. When that realization hit, I called Southwest, paid extra and flew home a day earlier than planned. I missed home already. Quote this article on your site
