Home

I am at my mother's office, where she is proudly showing Alice off to all of her coworkers. "How long are you in town?" a coworker asks me.

"I'm not sure," I reply. "It depends on how homesick I get."

The coworker smiles, but her brow furrows. "Homesick?" she asks. "But you're home right now, aren't you?"

Can you feel "at home" in two places at once? When I'm in Pittsburgh, I miss our morning walks to Central Park, the telltale clanging of the 6 train pulling into the station, the crowds in midtown. And when I'm in Manhattan, I miss the hilly terrain of Western Pennsylvania, the overcast skies, the crazy maze of roadways and boulevards, the unapologetic and unwavering love of the Pittsburgh Steelers, and the way the lights of Pittsburgh shine out over the river as the sky grows pink, then orange, then red, then black.

"Yes," I say. "Yes, I guess I am home.