HOME

In Paris right now, it's 3:15 in the afternoon. All the businesses are closed, and the streets are glossy from rain and sparkling in the sun. Down Avenue Daumesnil, families walk along the arcades under the Viaduct bundled in pea-coats and scarves, and joggers are out for a Sunday run in the cold. At my favorite bakery, people have been popping in all day to get the day's baguettes or perhaps a sweet treat. At my favorite cafe, a few people are sitting inside in the warmth with drinks. At my church, the afternoon service has ended and now my friends are gathered in the theater for coffee.... 

In Tehachapi, California right now, 6,000 miles away, it's 6:30 in the morning. Christmas lights are twinkling along the eves of my home, I can hear the distant familiar sound of highway 58, and I can see the dark outline of hills and mountains against the faintly blue sky of dawn. I can't sleep, I suppose due to jet lag, so I've been up for a while. 

Just a few minutes ago, deciding to get up and get a glass of water, I slid out of bed and lowered my bare feet to the floor—the very same floor where my big brother and I would play with our toys, the very same floor that used to be littered with books and papers as I did my homework in high school, and the very same floor where my suitcase sat, just a few months ago, half-filled with the things I would be taking to Paris. 

I crept down the hallway, and passed where my parents were sleeping. How wonderful it feels to know my family is across the hall, rather than across an ocean and a continent! 
Reaching my living room I turned on me Christmas tree lights so that I could have enough light to find a glass in the cupboard, and felt an indescribable, entirely overwhelming wave of joy. I was so flooded with nostalgia-drenched memories, so incomprehensibly at peace, and so happy to be at home, that it hurt. 

I got my water, turned off the lights, and headed back to my bedroom. 

The sun is starting to rise now. It's the same sun that rose on the other side of the world in Paris just hours ago, and it has made its way here to California. At this moment, its light, just like my thoughts, reaches simultaneously to the timeless City of Lights, and to this tiny town you've never heard of called Tehachapi. 
When it sets in Paris, and the lights on the Eiffel tower are glittering just the same as they did when I watched at midnight on my last night in the city, it will be fully-risen and shining here on this side of the world.

 ...And I'll be beneath it, perhaps going to church, or doing some Christmas shopping with my mom, or visiting some old friends. 

I don't know when my homesickness for Paris is going to set-in, but it will. I don't know when I'm going to notice that I have changed, but I will. As of this morning though, I am content.How could I have ever had a doubt that returning to this place might be difficult, or that it might be too hard to re-adjust? 

This is home. 

.. and there is no place, not lively cities nor pristine landscapes nor anywhere to which I have travelled these past few months, like home.