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thanksgiving was a quieter affair this year, as many of the orphans from Keenans’ Orphan Thanksgiving weren’t orphaned this year, or, rather, have jobs that wouldn’t let them zip cross country for the day. those of us who were there drank moderate quantities of alcohol, pots of decaf coffee in the morning, and no one suffered a raging hangover at any point in the weekend. goodness, are we growing up? perhaps yes. but not outgrowing friends, the extended families of our twenties. things are just…shifting.

it was lovely to be back in chicago, the weather was cold and refreshing but not bitterly cold, trees all bare and crisp sunshine. visits with friends went by much too fast, there were plays to see and there was time to train at the dojo, which left me sore for the rest of the week. oh and B and i made a killer apple pie. his mom’s filling recipe + cook’s illustrated’s pastry dough recipe + Martha Stewart’s presentation (pastry dough cut into maple leaves) + the keenans’ deep dish pie pan are an unstoppable combination. for the rest of the weekend we all ate pie and coffee for breakfast. mmm, pie for breakfast.

i flew back on saturday night with that displaced feeling: which way is home? am i scanning the airport monitor for flights to or from Chicago? to or from San Francisco? i say ‘here’ when i mean ‘there’, and ‘there’ when i mean ‘here’. leaving chicago was harder than i expected, and then getting back to california was easier than expected. it hasn’t been an easy transition, this one. but when i look in the mirror, i am surprised that the face looking back at me doesn’t reveal all the uncertainly and reluctance i feel lodged in my chest. it is a face that looks strangely determined.