Homelessness

I'm home.  But I wouldn't necessarily call it home anymore.

I've been all moved out and independent for more than six months now.  And I'm the same not-thinking-before-you-speak-and-tripping-over-sunshine type of girl I have always been.  But I'm also sort of growing up.

I'm figuring things out.  I know where I'm working this summer and where I'm going next year.  I'm finding what I'm good at and what I want to study in school.  I'm discovering my identity, and I like who I'm becoming.

I've been back to Anchorage 4 times since August.  At Thanksgiving, I was happy to be back because I just missed home.  At winter break, I was happy to be back because I was not liking school at all.  This time and last time?  I'm just happy to get food from someplace other than the Tilly.  Seriously.  I have dreams about fresh produce.  Like basil.  I have been thinking about basil all week.

This house in this city is not really my home anymore.  It's where my family lives, and it's familiar.  But it's not where I live.  And UAF is not home.  Because school is not home.

I'm homeless!  But I'm happy.