Coming Home

Ah New Orleans,
I just spent 10 days in a city that is so close to my heart it is a wonder I've lived there for such a short time. I love this city. I love that it can be two things at once - extremes in both poverty and wealth - in the middle of a place that reaches just past the edge of reason every day.
There is something in the obviously opposite that I think we are all drawn to and that is what makes me long for New Orleans.
But that's not the point of this post. When ever I spend too much time from my home, now defined as Washington, DC, I wonder what home really is for me. I wonder what coming home really is.
In as much as I love coming home to my bed, my kitchen, my own personal space filled with familiar sounds, smells and sights, there is always something missing.
Everything is just the same. If I had been gone one day more, or one day less, nothing would have changed. It would all be the same. No one would have missed me, nothing would be moved. Everything would be just as I had left it. Me. If I hadn't made the bed, or had the laundry done, no one else would do it. When I got home yesterday and had nothing in the cabinet or refrigerator, yup, that was me, wandering around the grocery store buying three cans of tomato soup. There is something oddly freeing yet sad about coming home to an empty house. I can leave the bed unmade, I can leave the house a mess. Yet, no one minds, and no one helps when I'm rushing out at 4:45 am. No one picks me up at the airport when I come in late. No one has breakfast ready when I wake up, exhausted from travel.
I love coming home after a long time away. Who doesn't?
But something isn't here. There is something not quite like home here. As if this is just a place to stop, rest my head, ready to move on. Coming in a day late means nothing more then coming in a day early. My dependents, better known as the zebra plant in my apartment, wouldn't mind. Even though it looks sad when I'm gone, it bounces right back with a little water.
Coming home means something a little different to us all. Coming home is starting to feel a little different to me.