There's no place like home.

I can't sleep.

I'm being so vividly reminded in so many ways of my childhood home, Half Moon Bay, California.
I can smell it, see it, and even taste certain aspects of it. At times, I'm reminded of something that I wasn't aware was in my conscious or even subconscious memory.

This is a relatively recent occurence; it's wonderful, yet unsettling.

It's painful, also, because while I am at these places in my mind, I know it will be a few years, or more, when I can actually go back. I've been back on vacation; a bit of a rushed, or touristy feel to it. Rapidly reacquainting myself with places and sounds I experienced when I was 12 and under; I can never really go back to how things were then. Never. And, of course, there is a tendency to idealize and romanticize a place when looking back on it; I don't think this is what this is. Memory is such a powerful thing; I don't know what all this means. And I'm not quite writing coherently because it is 3:30 in the morning ; )

This is not to say that I'm not forming new memories, every day, as I'm maturing; certainly, my attachment to London proves that. And my attachment to the people I've met and bonded with at Houghton. Among many other things!

But I long so deeply to go back, and actually tangibly be in these places--these real places, that are now so, so far away.

There's no place like home.

I miss it so very much.