This summer, school and work opportunities took me to Rio, Brazil, and to Houston, Texas, two places I have never lived or stayed for an extended period of time. Rio taught me to blend in and Houston taught me to be comfortable being me. This weekend, I drove back to Brooklyn, NY for the first time since I left with all my things packed in a van last August. I drove back with only one suitcase packed, and this time I was alone. I was excited to see my friends, my sister, and the strangers that roamed the streets at all hours of the night. When I got closer to the city, I began to feel an energy pulling me in. Although my old apartment had changed in appearance from a new paint job, and my room was no longer mine, once I was in the core of the Big Apple, I felt like I was home. No over-thinking, no unfamiliar streets. I was back in the rhythm of the city – looking for parking, sweating my ass of waiting for the train, walking the block, dodging strange men trying to drop pick-up lines, seeing old homeless clients still on their street corner, staying up with my roommate shooting the shit, and even walking through my old outreach route in the Port Authority. I met up with friends for drinks, ate late night/early breakfast in Brooklyn, drank Chimay with a handsome face, and rode the train with a slight beer buzz. I woke up and went to my old church in Brooklyn on Sunday and had lunch with a kindred soul. I was home. I hate being a visitor – I miss being resident. Like a guy once told me: New York, I don’t want to be your friend, I want to be your lover. Plotting my course back home as we speak…..

Artist: Gil Scott-Heron and Brian Jackson
Song: Back Home
Album: Winter in America