I have officially moved back to the city of my dreams, the place that captured my heart just five years ago, the place I've been craving like an addict for the past two years: my darling New Orleans. While I did a little dance in the car and couldn't stop grinning when I saw the first sign on the interstate ("New Orleans 111"), leaving Charleston was far more bittersweet than expected. I had finally accepted my place there, finally grown to feel like I wanted to be there, not that I was just stuck there. I keep telling myself that this is a good thing because it means that I will go back there once I'm tired of the big city, but today it just means that I miss home.
I miss watching the sailboats in the harbor in the evening. I miss waking up to Miss Scout waiting outside my room for her morning belly rub. I miss my Tuesday night date at the Surf Bar. I miss my sweaty, smiley, musical friends. And I hate that I'll never quite be able to go back to the last six months. They were fantastic.
