I’m back in Carmel. I’m no longer in Portland. I’ve been home for nine days, and… well… I was expecting a huge adjustment. Instead I find that it’s easy to be here. After all, I’m in the same house we moved into when I was 10. Some things have changed, but mostly it’s exactly how I remember.
I can see the stars at night. So many stars. I’m spittin’ distance from the mighty Pacific, and a mile from the high school I graduated from. My brother moved back in last year, and now we share a bathroom. It’s different, but it’s very much the same.
Once I found out my living situation in Portland wasn’t going to last, it took me less than an hour to decide to move back home. I didn’t want to, but it was something I chose. Does that make sense? I knew that I would miss the city, I was really unhappy to be leaving my amazing friends behind, but I knew that I was making the right decision. I’d been aimless for a long time, and for the past two years I’d ached to just come home. Portland wasn’t working for me, and I wasn’t working hard enough to change that.
I thought it would be harder to be here. I thought it would feel like failure. And I do miss Portland, and I do miss my friends, but what I’m feeling mostly is relief. I have a lot of things I need to accomplish to get my life back on track, and I don’t want to stay in this tiny town longer than I have to, but for right now, being home for a little while is exactly what I need.