The salty smell of the ocean stung my nostrils as I stepped out of the car, it was warmer than when I’d left, which seemed like a lifetime ago. The moon hid from the sky, leaving only the street lights to define my shadow on the parking lot asphalt.

I stopped and took a deep breath in the city silence, but it still doesn’t feel like home, it hasn’t for years. Stuck in a state of permanent jet lag where my head always feels better at 30,000 feet.

It’s safe but it’s not comfortable. It’s familiar but it’s not sustainable.

Some things you just out grow…

I keep searching for that place. It’s fast and fleeting when it comes, and pried from my hands as if it were a tangible object. It’s always harder when home welcomes you, with open arms and no judgements.