I stepped outside today in 87 degree weather to be oppressed by the heat, to be surprised that this felt just like home, to be surprised that I missed it so.
Home--unspecial. Why does nostalgia for mediocre nights make my senses glow with gladness? I try to point out to my psyche that I was safe when I was there--I may no longer be safe when I return. When I return as my new self: young, independent, alone, vulnerable, horrified at how misogyny can make her feel, I may see things differently.
But I hope that I do not. I want this summer to be reaffirming. I want my return to Southern California to be both new and familiar. Things are different this time. I am not trying to do this alone. I don't need to shun my family. I know that I can use help, and that I can take it without guilt or shame.
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