After three months of wandering, I came home and I realized that the best part of the trip is the return. I walked up to my own front door and I felt something I had never felt before. It was the sensation of being a stranger in my own hallway.
Everything was a little smaller. The couch was a little softer. The food bowl was exactly where I left it, which felt like a miracle. My housemate, a goldfish named Dennis, looked at me as though I had been gone five minutes.
I sat in my old spot and cried softly. Then I ate. Home, I now understand, is where the second breakfast is.
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