Keys

I've been back in New York for just over a week.  It feels weird. I know I love living here; I know that this is where I want to live for the rest of my life.  It's just that, at the moment, I'm having a bit of trouble remembering WHY. 

A good friend is encouraging me to enjoy every minute of this strange feeling of feeling not at home at home.  And I like that idea, so that's what I'm planning to do. 

I have lots of friends who do lots of long-term traveling, with some of them living abroad for years on end, so what I'm experiencing now is probably old news to them.  But this summer was the first time I was out of the U.S. for more than a month, and that second month really did a number on my ability to come back without noticing a strange thing or two about my life here. I'm trying to figure out how to explain it, so until I'm fully adjusted, I'm going to try to figure it out here. 

When I got back last week, my mom and nephew met me at my apartment to hand over my keys.  I was fresh from 25 hours of traveling with just about three hours of sleep thrown in despite two sleeping "aids," so I was not on point. My mom handed me my keys, a jangling bundle of no less than 13 keys and I thought, and then said,  "There must be some mistake, all of these keys can't possibly be mine."  But they were mine alright, and I have spent many years carrying all of these keys with me every day.  For the past two months, I wore a single key on a piece of berimbau cord around my neck, which is apparently enough time to become accustomed to only wearing a single key on a cord around one's neck.  But then there I was, back at my home, which still didn't feel quite like my home yet, with a bundle of keys (to my apartment, my mom's apartment, my sister's apartment, my friend's office, my mailbox, my bike lock....) that also didn't feel like mine.

My first day back, I carried those key around as I ran errands around Brooklyn.  I'll state the obvious by saying that they represent my life here -- and that I wasn't quite ready to carry that life around, all jingling and silver in my handbag.  My second day back, I separated the keys into smaller bundles and now leave what I don't need for the day at home.  Seems simple enough, and it was simple enough.  With fewer keys, my return to the speed of daily life here slowed down a bit -- just enough for me to handle it.

Don't get me wrong -- I'm glad to be back.  But it is weird.