Well, I made the trek across the Keystone State once again, my little black Neon guzzling that $3.29 per gallon gasoline like it was free beer at a college party.
My belongings, unloaded from my car, lie in a pile behind my couch; I’ll deal with them tomorrow. I am just getting ready to plop in front of my TiVo to discover what mind-numbing entertainment it has waiting for me.
It’s always comforting to come back home, but there are, of course, a few things that I will miss.
When I gaze up at the night sky over Pennsylvania, I can easily make out the milky band of stars that inspired our galaxy’s name. Looking up at the celestial canopy over light-polluted central Jersey, I’m lucky if I can discern the circumpolar constellations.
In my parents’ home, it seems like someone is always talking or making some sort of noise. Back here in my apartment, the silence is sometimes deafening.
Back there I can forget about my responsibilities for a time and almost pretend I’m a kid. Here, though, it’s back to the old grind.
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