No Place Like Home

"Hey," I said when Friend wandered out to her living room this morning. "I slept really well," I continued, curled into the corner of the sofa. I'd folded the quilt and top sheet and tucked the bed away. I heard her rustle around at 8:00 and I hadn't unsnuggled myself from my sleepy nest much earlier. So the compromise - I slept late and she woke early - worked out quite well.

"When are we going?" she asked around nine. We were still sipping coffee and petting cats and I shrugged and said I could soon be ready. I sighed as I dressed, acknowledging the difficulty of being back. I miss it - the familiar comfort. I got distracted as we ran a couple of errands and made our way to the farmers' market.
"It smells amazing," I said, breathing deeply and smiling as I saw peaches nestled in baskets, smelling of summer in the warm morning air.

"They're actually yellow," Friend breathed, drawn toward the tomatoes. She started listing produce she wanted as we wandered the main aisle. I followed her, smiling at the southerners and looking with approval at the bright colors and bountiful food. She peered expertly at cucumbers, examined the lamb cuts available, and glanced over at me, finding me predictably entranced by baked goods. I continued to follow as we ventured in the stands, placing ripe items in bags and paying cash for our selections.

"I don't like peaches," Friend said, looking at the fuzzy fruit that scented the air. "But they look really good."

"I like peaches," I offered so she put a couple in a bag. I said the same for carrot cake. Sourdough bread. Strawberries. We loaded the car twice, burdened with fresh fruits and vegetables.

"Hi!" We greeted her roommate on a quick run for groceries. "We decided," Friend said, "to have tomato salad with vinegar and blue cheese. Garlic green beans. Corn on the cob. Fruit salad with peaches, nectarines, mango, watermelon and strawberries. We also have fresh sourdough bread and carrot cake." Having forgotten about the garlic and beans, I fantasized about them for a moment before Friend's Roommate went to go get steak and chicken.

"I'm pruney," I announced once we returned to Friend's kitchen. "These tomatoes are really juicy. You have to do the rest." I frankly find Friend's preference to peel the tomato before slicing it to be strange. I don't see what's wrong with the skin, honestly.

I frowned once I returned a bit later. I had done some revisions on my paper while I watched the Olympics and came back when she asked if I wanted to slice some fruit. I met the best nectarine ever, sneaking bites as I sliced and put the perfect fruit into a small tupperware. I frowned when, after I finished slicing the peaches into a different container, Friend came and plucked out the slices of strawberry and placed them in a third container.

"What is wrong with you?" I asked, shaking my head as I continued to slice berries into quarters. "It's a fruit salad! Why are you separating everything?" She explained, using some nonsense about flexibility in what was included in the salad. I rolled my eyes, proclaiming I'd write about her on my blog.

"You're odd," I decided finally, finishing the berries and wrinkling my nose over the watermelon she started to slice. I don't like watermelon - never have.

"You're one to talk," she replied and I shrugged before smiling and returning to the living room. I brought a heavy PC instead of my cute Mac. I'm working on corporate emails and borrowing one of her laptops for bloggy uses - far different from my focus on reading and writing and answering emails from gmail. It's an odd transition - feeling like I belong back here even as I acknowledge I don't. I have been a bit sad at times, and I worry that I'll be more so by Wednesday, but it's good to be back. And I still have dinner to anticipate.