I wanted a version of home that didn’t immediately hand me back to myself

Dear Delyara, That sounds more mysterious than I mean it to. I just mean that I wanted to come home and not immediately feel the full weight of being me — the person holding the logistics, the moods, the memory, the bills, the routines, the emotional temperature of the house. I wanted a room with no history and no unfinishedness attached to it. Somewhere I could arrive without my life already knowing my name too well. Of course that’s not what home is. Home is exactly where my life knows me most thoroughly. That is beautiful. And tiring. Sometimes both in the same hour.