Sigh. Sometimes you just gotta miss it...

Okay, I admit it.

I know I've been gone for something only like three weeks, but I've been so busy and enjoying my time here to really give it much thought.

Until, of course, we got home at a decent hour one night this week and "Sex and the City" was on.

That did it for me. Ever since, I've been thinking about New York City and dreaming about the fall in Upstate New York. I miss Syracuse every fall, but this year, I also have to add missing the City.

Though I am finding enjoyment in Iowa, this is the truth: there is no place like New York, no matter where you go.

So for the past few days, I've just been thinking about the crisp fall air, the sounds of the city, the places, the family, the friends... damn you, "Sex and the City." I guess that deep down I knew it would happen eventually, just didn't expect the longing for home to hit so quickly and so deeply. This is my most favorite time of the year - and especially in New York.

I mean, look at this and tell me you wouldn't miss it:


Doesn't help that it's not only dry as hell here, but that the temperature dropped dramatically yesterday. Woke up to a 30 degree morning when it was a gorgeous day the day before. Yeah, need my fleece and my closed-toed shoes.

In many ways, it's probably better that I'm here - the excitement is starting to build - and leaving Seattle after watching news reports of another potential, though not as bad in the past, Mt. St. Helens eruption is probably for the better.

But yesterday, I couldn't get this image out of my head:


And that's Green Lakes! I seriously never thought I'd ever miss that place, but I also never thought I'd end up in Des Moines for a little over a month in my life.

Another factor is that everyone here, once they find out that I'm from New York, insist on asking me about 9/11, which I surprisingly don't mind too much about. I mean, we all have stories, but if they want my unique perspective of what it was like, then I am all to happy to tell them about it. The fascinating thing that I find out by talking to them, though, is that while they have some sense of what it must have been like for us that day, they have even less of a sense of what it felt like to experience that compassion and love from the months afterwards - until, of course, our President decided to invade Iraq.

Basically, they are stuck on the tragedy end of it, which we all are, but it seems that we have found a way to move on.... well, our survival and mental states were dependant on us finding a way to move on.

The most fascinating thing is that they sometimes seem surprised at how positive I end the conversation. They seem to want something out of me that I frankly cannot give anymore because that feeling of dread, of sadness, was sucked out of me. So instead of being defensive about it, instead of telling them what happened, I explain to them what I've learned - I think we all have learned something, but in these discussions, I've found that there is a huge difference between those of us who lived through it directly and continued to live and work amongst it, and continue to every day. That's something they cannot immediately grasp. And though I was somewhat rattled at first, I am only too happy to give my account of things.

But I honestly didn't think that in all that talk over the past weeks would make me yearn suddenly for home.

Sigh.