Coming back home form uni feels extraordinarily weird this year. No one else is home this summer. It feels like I should be moving on with my life and not keep coming back. I feel like I should just stay out near the uni and figure out what I am going to be doing with my life. But… something keeps me coming back home. Something. I don’t know if it’s the fact that the first boy I ever had true feelings is back here and it’s sometimes nice to see his face. Maybe it could be that every time I step out my door for even a short errand, I know that I will see a friendly face. It could be the view, or the fact that I am surrounded my mountains and the ocean. Maybe it’s the fact that I thoroughly love my summer job and my fellow employees. Sometimes I think it is because of the early Saturday mornings spent at the Farmer’s market, eating freshly backed bagels and perfectly ripened berries. Maybe I come back because I miss my family. Maybe I do it because I love the smell of home, the salt of the ocean and the fresh smell of the forest after a warm rain. Sometimes I believe that I come home for all these reasons but I think I came home because it’s the only place I have ever felt like I am at home. 


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