I’m surrounded by restaurants I have yet to try, by street names I have yet to learn. I’m sitting around people I don’t know, and around a few I’d even go as far as to say I’d like to know (hello, sir in the blue plaid shirt). Something shuffled on after Andrew Bird that I don’t quite recognize — and I do quite like that.
I’m sitting at Starbucks right now. In a city where local coffee shops line the sidewalks and the Andersonville Chamber of Commerce is my newest and favorite Twitter friend, I’m sitting in a chain because, for lack of a better term, I need someplace that feels like home right now.
I’m happy here. I walked — I ambled, I traipsed — to the train in the early morning sunlight, and if I’ll be damned if I’m not trying to absorb as much of this city as I can in the three months that I’m here. But I’m sleeping on a couch until June 1. And, um, to say that I did not correctly commute is an understatement. I drove through NILES (…) to get home today. I parked on a street, walked down some stairs and was welcomed back by a cat.
Different isn’t bad, but this ain’t home.
Not yet, anyway.
In the meantime, I’ll walk the 10 minutes and sit at Starbucks for a couple hours. I’ll drink my chai and I’ll leave smelling a little gross but a little familiar.
I’m not worried.