My 94 year old Grandpa is dying. I went home this past weekend, even though I just started my job and my house is an absolute disaster area. I hung out with him, held his hand. It's sad. I'm having a hard time dealing with it, and a hard time writing about it.
I haven't been home in so long, and now I'm back. Although it took so long to come across the country, I think a big part of me is still in Philly, thinking I am headed home. CA doesn't feel like home yet, even though I'm from here. Going home to see my folks was nice. Being able to be there and get there fast, without worrying about getting a plane flight or arranging transportation was really nice. Things didn't seem so frantic - have to do this, have to see this, have to buy this because I can't get it in Philly. Everything is just so unsettled right now.
I forget that it takes a long time to adjust. It takes a long time to get used to where you are living. It takes a long time to feel like you're home. I forget it takes time to make friends, to find my way around town, to get comfortable on my bike again. I had all of this down in Philly. I knew where all my friends lived, I knew what they did, I knew where to find them. I knew where all the stores were and all the good little places to eat and the places to get a good beer. I know I will get there here, but its an adjustment.
This week, we are at conferences. Alex from Mon-Wed and me from Wed-Fri. This weekend, thankfully we are home. I hope we can get some furniture. I have no place to put my things. Clothes are piled up everywhere, and I can't even begin to unpack books and other things. I think I have to make about 300 trips to about 400 places in the next few days. Why do you always seem to run out of soap and important things right when you move in? I also threw alot of stuff away before we left, and I'm finding that I would like to have some of those things again. Figures.
Moving is a huge adjustment. I need to keep telling myself that....