*sigh* So many stories, so little time...so many things which are not appropriate in an adult audience blog. The one thing that really sticks out about this whole thing is that you CAN go home--but nothing feels the same. The yard (well, okay, the hurricane made a difference, but the yard still didn't have the same affect on me that it did when I actually lived at home), the kitchen, even my own room--nothing struck the familiar G chord of "I'm home." Only Taliaferro Lounge can do that for me now--not that this is all a bad thing. Ah, le change, c'est la vie.
My room...perhaps that's what hit me the most. Since I brought a lot of stuff to school, the old familiars weren't there. I still had all my books, most of my board games, and a lot of other things that have the mark of my personality upon them. And yet something was missing--namely, ME. I hadn't been there for long enough that I couldn't even sense my own presence...if that makes sense.
Perhaps you can go home again. But the experience can be unsettling. And in a hurricane with no electricity, even more so. I doubt this will traumatize me, but it does leave me things to ponder. As if I needed more material.
More Isabel stories later. I need to comb my memory and convey my perceptions of the Boots incident as accurately as possible.