I keep waiting to go home.
I keep thinking things like, "When we go back to Knoxville, I'll..." Take you to Big Ed's Pizza. Go for a walk around the greenway surrounding Ijams with my friend Breanna and her son Ethan. Email my sons language arts teacher about the books he's enjoying these days, largely because of her influence. Talk my feelings over with Big Jim. Have lunch with my girlfriends. Go to the Kroger that I know like the back of my hand. Not feel like this anymore.
Knoxville wasn't any more home to me than this little town in Eastern, NC is. If it was ever really home, I would have never wanted to leave. I get that. There is probably also something profound which could be said about how home is where your heart is, or some other such something. I know Knoxville wasn't home. I know Tennessee wasn't home.
It was familiar though, and I am missing familiarity right now.
I keep trying to remind myself that it wasn't always so familiar. That at one point I had to learn my way around, had to meet new people and make new friends. That everything wasn't all sunshine and peaches and that there were a lot of very valid reasons that living there did not make sense. That there are a lot of very valid reasons that living here does make sense. The least of which is my house, which in case I haven't mentioned recently, I might be in love with.
There's a problem though and I'm pretty I know what it is.
Because being in a different place changed everything. Except me.