tourist in my own life

I hadn't expected to come back to New Orleans so soon. My adventure in Montreal was supposed to have taken up my summer and I said goodbye before I left. I'm back now, having realized quickly that Montreal wasn't the place for me, that the offer wasn't a good fit, that it would just be a vacation, a change of scenery for the summer.I don't mind a change of scenery, mind you, but if I'm going to take a vacation, there are other places I'd rather be.

I returned from Montreal without telling many people I was coming home because I'd only just left. I also wanted to come back into my life quietly while I decided what to do next. I wanted an idea in mind before I started getting the questions, wanted the answer before people even asked.

I've come home, but having said my goodbyes before and knowing that I'll be leaving again soon has made me feel like a tourist in my own life. I sleep in my familiar bed, see the familiar faces, got to the familiar places, but it all seems a little strange to me. It was easy being a stranger in a strange land, but it's difficult to be one in someplace so familiar.

I've a house guest here at the moment and having here here has made it difficult for me in the fact that I feel like I'm sharing this space that I'm used to occupying alone, but it's all so temporary because she'll be gone soon too. She sleeps away the day because she works nights and I keep to my office and bedroom to let her, making me feel even more like a visitor here. I enjoy her company, but I need my own life back for a moment so I can relax, breathe, figure out what next, where next.

That's what I'll do too; relax, breathe, figure out what next, where next. That's what I always do. This isn't the first time I've been a stranger in any land; strange or familiar. Given my wanderlust, it won't be the last either.