I still don’t understand why I leave pieces of myself in certain places.

Why one beautiful place will barely register while another place that I enter trepidatiously, with low expectations, will dig deep under my skin, wrap itself around my ventricles, and whisper with the beat of my heart, “stay stay stay stay”.

It’s not just the people.

Not just the feeling of ease and peace and beautiful routine.

Not just the incredible views or the way the air smells like pine trees or sea surf or damp earth or all three.

It’s a feeling that sometimes I think I’ve lost that will suddenly come careening into the pit of my stomach.

A feeling of belonging and rest and “maybe I could be happy here”.

A feeling of safety and “it’ll be okay”.

Sometimes a place, for a million untouchable and unfathomable reasons, will just feel like “home”,

and it always makes it so hard to leave.