That I’m physiologically homeless. For the next few years, I’ll be at school, moving from dorm to home to apartment. Nowhere permanent. Sure, I’ll call my parent’s house “home.” This weekend, when I went back, it felt really strange, as if I was visiting, not returning home. Of course, I will always go back there for summers and sometimes on weekends. But thinking about it, I’ve just realized that after all this school, the chances of me moving back in are slim to none. If I do reach my goal of becoming a doctor, it will mean that I will have been at school for about 11 years. Do the math: 18+11=29. At almost 30, there is no way that I’ll be living with my parents again. I want to be married and have my own life by then. (Yeah, I said it, the M word, my mind was just wandering so far into the future.)
This rambley nonsense just comes back to one thing.
“You put your arms around me and I’m home.”
I’m falling in love with this song every time I listen to it. I just don’t want that to be me. I’m at home where ever there is a reason to smile.
That is all.