Yesterday, I moved into my parents' basement. This is not exactly where I thought I would be a few months ago, but I'm glad to have such a supportive family and this chance to restart.

Saying goodbye was hard, of course. Many people told me I'm brave. I cried a lot. Anya (who is three) asked me, "are you going far far?"

I felt numb on the car ride up and for most of the unloading of my things.

I kept repeating "home" to myself yesterday as I unpacked. Maybe if I say it enough, it'll be true.

It hasn't quite sunk in that I've moved, that I'm not just visiting. I wonder whether it will be a sudden click of understanding, or a gradual settling. Like sediment.

I had a job interview this morning. I have another one this afternoon. I have another tomorrow evening.

I'm going to get a job. I'm going to be a teacher. I'm going to get a paycheck.

I don't live on a commune. I don't live on a commune. I don't live on a commune.