Portland

There's just something about this city that I can't help but fall in love with. It's not a specific aspect, or one real neighborhood or section of town in particular (although I feel an affinity towards the Pearl District). It's the sum of the parts that makes up the whole. That's what's so beautiful about this place. Portland is an experience, not a destination. It's a feeling in the air. Portland exudes an aura. It's alive. It breathes to a rhythm of life very different from rest. You feel it walking down the street. It's contagious. It becomes a part of you. It, it, it. It just is.

Home

It seems like I haven't been home for a long time. I mean, I was here for about two weeks when I first came home from my mission, but that really wasn't enough time. Plus, I had no idea what was going on in my post-mission confusion and decompression. It's good to be home.

I love Portland. I've missed it so much. You really become thankful for the little things you always grew up with, but took for granted.

I've missed:

1.) The rain

2.) Eating my mother's food

3.) Sitting on the couch watching sumo

4.) Speaking Japanese

5.) My brothers

6.) My room (books, old records, my bed)

7.) Driving

8.) Going to Uwajimaya

9.) Alternative girls

10.) The trees and the green

11.) Looking into a full refrigerator

12.) My father's laugh

I've only been home for 24 hours. I think the list will grow.

It's so good to be home.