Unpacking my suitcase this morning, I realized that I brought bits of animal fur from the Portland menagerie across the country with me.  The dog’s course white hairs were woven into the fleece of the cheap neck pillow I bought at the Newark airport on the way out to Portland last week.  Silky black whisps from the 14-year-old cat lined the bottom of my argyle socks.  Longer gray strands from my sister’s cat Woody marked the cuff of a pair of black pants that hadn’t gotten washed yet.

These remnants of my Portland tugged at me and for a moment, I was fiercely homesick.  Upon my many returns to Philly, I have always experience feelings of confusion.  I spend the first couple of days back questioning whether the east coast is still the place for me, and I contemplate what life would be like if I returned to the coast of my birth.  Right now I am committed to this city because of school.  I also have many wonderful friendships that keep me here.  But as I approach the 5th anniversary of my move here, I start to wonder how much longer this city will be my home.