And so it begins. . .
By now, I am sure many of you must be wondering when we are going to get started and go already. I know I have been wondering that as of late as I sit in my father's house in Wilmington, De, alone on a Friday night. Not that there's anything wrong with sitting at home alone on a Friday night while my dad and his wife are out at the circus. Yet, there may be those of you who have been patiently awaiting a first installment of my travel ramblings and yet apart from the thunderstorms and the ridiculous heat, I have not a whole lot to say. Alas you (and I both) will have to continue the wait as I have yet to leave the country.
Instead for the last month, I have been up and down the eastern seaboard, from the far corners of Maine to downtown Manhattan, I am quite the mover and the shaker. From cowering in the 3 pound backpacking tent during the torential downpours with lightening and thunder in Acadia to excessive sweating in the sweltering heat of rolling blackouts and subway stoppages in NYC, I have been having quite the east coast adventure.
Besides, who said you needed to leave the country to have a harrowing or life changing experience? Go ahead, you try spending 7 days and nights in Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn with my mother's parents. Phew.
Now back "home" in San Francisco, California after a month on the east coast, I wonder why I feel no more comfortable as I expected to feel. Don't get me wrong, I am thrilled to be back in a part of the country where recycling and vegetarian options in a restaurant is a matter of course rather than an anomoly. But that being said, I feel . . .displaced. Perhaps that stems from the fact that while I arrived "home" Monday night to 128 Albion, my home it was not. I am not exactly sure why this surprised me, but it did. As many of you know, my home for the next 12 months (give or take a month) is now the home of my brother and his friend, Chad. Clearly I knew this. John and I asked them to move in. We okayed it with the landlord. They paid July's rent. Yet, on Monday as I slept on my living room couch, I felt out of sorts. And today as John and I discussed where to sleep tonight, I couldn't help but feel displaced. A sensation, I have the feeling that will not be disapating anytime soon.
And so it begins . . .
