Home...one year later.

Its been awhile since I last blogged--over a year ago, if I remember correctly. I don't know when it happened, but one day I woke up and I just felt at home in Boston. Life started to have a routine, I had a community of friends that I could call up, I started to have favorite coffee-shops, restaurants, bookstores, and routes that I would call my own in this city. Reflecting back, I can't re-call when exactly that moment happened, it just did. Life happened. As the seasons changed...as the leaves turned colors, snow started to fall, and winter melted into spring, life happened, and took me along with it.

I reflect back and I am in awe of everything that has happened: trips to Uganda, finishing the dreaded MCAT exam, Medical School applications, moving into a new apartment, meeting new people, crazy dance parties, lazy Sundays in the South End, swimming in Walden Pond, rafting the Nile, the list can go on and on; but it all seems so small, minuscule, insignificant. Are these simply activities to do to fill time, to feel productive, to check off an imaginary list? There are times that I feel like I am simply living to go from one high to the next...seeking the next emotional thrill...constantly planning activities to fill time--to have something to do. And then there are other times when life feels so right, so perfect, so beautiful that I just want to freeze that moment in time, preserve it, to reflect on it another day {rarely does that reflection happen}. Why the dichotomy? I don't know. Perhaps it is the activities that builds memories, and with those memories comes sentimental feelings, and with the feelings comes connections with people, and with people comes a feeling of being at home.

So one year later, I finally call Boston my home--a place which conjures up sentimental feelings, feelings not due to the place, but to the people which makes this place home. Some can say that I found a home in Boston, but I like to think of it as I found people, which led me to feel at home.