I am back in Vancouver at the parental unit's home right now. Late last night I biked around my old neighbourhood and felt all nostalgiac for a time that I didn't necessarily love. It's not that I didn't love my childhood --because I really did --but I would gladly forget those awkward junior high years. Bushy eyebrows and a penchant for good grades never helped the pursuit of popularity.

I've been looking through old pictures for a project at work, and though I've seen these same photographs more times than I can count, I feel like I'm noticing new things today. For one, I look a lot like my mother. Also, my brother, sister, and I wore stripes way too often.

I can already see that I won't be able to sum up the kinds of things I'm feeling right now without sounding painfully sentimental. Suffice to say it's nice to be home, hard to see things that have changed, and comforting to return to people with a shared history.