After four and a half days in Germany, we are back home in New York, back to reality. Going back home after we’ve had so many new and interesting experiences is always sad because for the most part, that constant daily new discovery is somewhat gone, and instead, you are back in your semi routine doing similar things at similar times. Sometimes, routine is comforting, but other times, it tends to get bland.
Defining “home” has been weird for me in the last year. Earlier this year, I realized I actually felt comfortable saying I was from New York when traveling because… well, I do Iive here now and have been for over five years. Although San Francisco will always be my original home since that is where I was born and raised, it feels a little less like home every time I go back. And now that Ed isn’t there anymore, there’s an almost cold, sterile feeling I get every time I even think of going home. Home without my brother doesn’t feel right.