Tonight, my hair smells the way it did in Perth. And I'm wearing the jammies that I did over there.
My body soap reminds me of LA- even though the most recent times I've gone back, I haven't used body soap that smelt like this.
Sometimes, and a lot more recently to be honest, I figure I could do this. I could stay.
Because you love your work and I love your work and I love that you love your work. And because, to be honest, it'd be easy for me to work here. And I could. And I love my work, and I love working here.
But mostly because home is exactly where you are.
Then sometimes I find myself missing these places. These places I've felt so at home in, so comfortable in. Places where I've felt it okay to be me. Where I've walked streets and felt like there couldn't possibly be anything more at home, than feeling my footfalls against this concrete pavement. On nights like tonight, I watch the rising steam fall against the rest of the bathroom as I towel myself and find myself half expecting, half wishing, that it'll be too cold when I step out.
It would make sense here, it would. It would be easy, relatively easier in comparison.
But then, what about all those times I feel like staring out windows and missing all these places so much? Because aside from how the air seems to rest itself just nicely on my skin when I'm there, there's my family, and I miss them too.
And I know I don't have to decide just yet, but it's just been something on my mind.
On nights like tonight, I miss being home with you, that's for sure. But I also find myself missing feeling like I'm home.