Yesterday I went for a walk in an attempt to find a Wells Fargo so I could deposit my check. For being one of the largest banks in the country, there certainly aren't any around where I live. While I was walking, I stumbled into a rougher neighborhood. And even though I knew it was a rougher neighborhood, I didn't feel especially alarmed after living in north Minneapolis.
I really like St. Paul though. It's neat that I am actually within walking distance to fun things. I like that I have a view of downtown. I like that I have my own place with a nice girl. I like that I have my things again. I like that I have a home again.
I remember waking up in November one morning and realizing that where I was wasn't home anymore. I don't know how it happened or what caused me to wake up feeling that way. I looked around my room and just realized I wasn't where I was supposed to be anymore. It was a terrifying feeling. I didn't know what to do, who to talk to or how to fix it. And while I liked where I was in Eagan, I had two boxes and my clothes. I'm happy to have my bed and dresser, and everything in my own closet and drawers. It's good to be home.