Unpacking my suitcase this morning, I realized that I brought bits of animal fur from the Portland menagerie across the country with me. The dog’s course white hairs were woven into the fleece of the cheap neck pillow I bought at the Newark airport on the way out to Portland last week. Silky black whisps from the 14-year-old cat lined the bottom of my argyle socks. Longer gray strands from my sister’s cat Woody marked the cuff of a pair of black pants that hadn’t gotten washed yet.
These remnants of my Portland tugged at me and for a moment, I was fiercely homesick. Upon my many returns to Philly, I have always experience feelings of confusion. I spend the first couple of days back questioning whether the east coast is still the place for me, and I contemplate what life would be like if I returned to the coast of my birth. Right now I am committed to this city because of school. I also have many wonderful friendships that keep me here. But as I approach the 5th anniversary of my move here, I start to wonder how much longer this city will be my home.
I can now appreciate the extreme bravery that it takes to live on the opposite side of the country from your family. You have my complete admiration for doing it this long!
I say boo to moving away from Philly.
Its funny, Philly is a nice place to live, but it always seems that everyone is always just visiting.