Dislocated.

I realized something yesterday that brings some light to my feelings of isolation in the past few days.

I own a home in Eugene, which I have had to part with. It was a painful process of separation, with my home and with the city and with my friends I was leaving there. A separation from the work I put into my home, with the plants I planted, with the life I made there during graduate school.

I have a dog I love so much I couldn't keep him in my small home with my non-existent yard in California. He is now living with his best buddies on my parents' farm. He no longer (for the moment) falls asleep with me at night. He isn't there to get excited when I get home. I'm not there to watch him learn how to play.

All of my belongings are scattered between my house in Eugene, my parent's house in southern Oregon, my home in California, and my new home in Portland. It just feels awkward.

And my love is in California. I just can't wait to be HOME, wherever that might be.