More Rambling on Home

Gee, can you tell I'm bored? I'd have to be, for three posts in one day :)

So I'm sitting here in my apartment, on a Friday afternoon around 4, waiting for everyone to come home from work. Since I got off at 1, I've already made myself a grilled cheese sandwich, done all the dishes, washed two new shirts in a bin in the sink, reorganized the food that I've had in containers all year (and salvaged the melting chocolate by putting it in the fridge), gone on Facebook, and posted twice to my blog. I'm lucky/unlucky enough to be working only three and a half days a week this summer, which means I have a lot of free time to sit around and relax, doing things like learning new songs on the piano, reading, and catching up on chores. Of course, I read at one of my jobs too. But it also means I get bored a lot. Of course, when I'm not bored, I'm hanging out with the many friends who are also here for the summer, sitting around in our living rooms, playing sports in the sun or in the rain, or running around Philly. I'm glad I get to spend this time with them, especially since most of us are going abroad next year.

I also find myself missing home. By home, I mean Needham home, my family, my dog, my high school friends. I don't think I've seen Neelima since winter break, and I haven't seen anyone else since March. Although I'm having a blast and I'm so glad I stayed here this summer, part of me is glad I'm going home at the end of June, because I miss it so much. I miss little things, like the foods we eat, which I have so accessible when I'm home but would have to spend extra money on or put effort into finding here. There are always bagels on my counter at home, but so far we've been too lazy to go to Bruegger's to get some. It's a summer tradition for my family to sit outside on the patio eating boiled artichokes with mustard/mayo sauce, one leaf at a time, an artichoke each; here, my roommates either don't like artichokes or have no particular desire to make them. I crave kugel, but no one here knows what that is. I want steak, which my dad makes so well, but decent steak costs a lot and I don't trust myself to grill it right and Gabi doesn't eat red meat anyway. I miss my dog like no other, which is weird because although I usually miss her, it's usually not this much. I miss driving around in my town. It's just been too long since I've seen my friends.

And yet last summer, when I was at home, I took all of these things for granted. I felt trapped, separated from Haverford by a six-hour drive and 300 miles, with so many days, weeks, months until Customs started. I counted down the days until I could visit, and I relished the one overnight I had here, making Josh walk upcampus with me so that I could see Founders and Magill. I missed it so much, and 90 days was too long to be away.

When I'm there, I miss here. I'm here, and I miss there. No matter which place I am, I ache for the other one. Of course, the ironic solution is that I'm running away to South America for five months instead of being in either place, and I'll get to miss both. Maybe afterwards, I'll miss Mendoza.

I don't think it's that I'm in between homes. I think it's that I have two homes, and I can never have both at once, but I love each one when I'm there while simultaneously missing the one where I'm not.