When I moved to the Boston area for graduate school, it was surreal. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
On the way here from Ypsilanti, Michigan, not quite my home town, but very close, I drove through Canada. Not that exotic, I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve done this road trip a few times in my life, though customs and border enforcement always makes me nervous. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then, I visited my best friend, whom I have now known 3\/4 of my life. She is working on re-habbing a castle in Upstate New York to create a Social Circus and Arts center. It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s an old armory that looks like a castle. She and her significant have spent a few years working on this project and building support for it. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I hadn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t seen her in a number of years, but that felt like home. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then, she drove with me to Boston, and helped me settle in. She drove back to her fairy castle, and stowed my car until Christmas. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Meanwhile, my cousin was getting married in Marin County, so as soon as my stuff was in the apartment, I flew out to OAK and hung out with family, recouped my grandfather\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s camera and a bunch of art I had forgotten he had from my ex-boyfriend, via my ex-boss in Palo Alto. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
That felt like a very fraught version of Home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Cambridge, where I flew back to live, did not feel like home. My apartment was empty, I knew nobody. As a nontraditional older student I felt out of place at Harvard, even though I “pass” as belonging, there were many places and times that I was unable to push back on things. <\/p>\n\n\n\n