The nights are quiet, mild. The air grows cold like a desert, but the streets are lined with palm trees and you feel like maybe you're in another country completely. The time zones confuse you, the hotel blackout curtains, you wake disoriented and forget to smile at people you're supposed to know. But strangers say "I'm sorry" like you're used to, the AC is freezing like your every grade school August and the city is wreathed in mountain horizons. You try to tell people how much it reminds you of a home you once knew but realize it counts for little.
She drives you to the airport in the early evening -- it feels like the middle of the night -- and as the car flies into the valley, the city lights sprawling around you and the peaks silhouetted against the last of sunset, your heart beats a relentless ache for adventure. You want more stars in the unknown night sky.
More foreign places to feel like home.
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