Who knew PB&J could have that effect?

I had a (an?) eureka moment this morning -- and it was while I was doing nothing special, just making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch. I realized why I feel in a funk, why I sometimes feel like I don't belong, why I get that unmatched shoe feeling.

I'm not special. And I don't mean that in a derogatory way, I mean when I lived in Baltimore and I would come to New York for a visit, it was a moment, it was a big deal. I see that when my brothers or sister come to visit from Virginia, Alaska or California. It's exciting -- Reuben's coming home.

But now that I'm in Ithaca, now that I'm only an hour away, I'm here. It's no big deal. I'm just like any other member of the family, and can be taken for granted just as easily as the next person. I'm just any other daughter, sister, friend. And I knew it was bothering me -- I just couldn't put my finger on it. Until today, until this morning. I'm not special. I used to be. It used to be a big deal when I hopped in the car and drove 350 miles. Now 60 miles isn't a big deal.

I saw my friends in Rochester more when I lived in Baltimore -- because I made the effort to fit in a visit when I was in town. I've been in New York for almost two years (though that doesn't seem possible -- sometimes it feels too short, sometimes way too long) and I've only seen friends a few times.

I guess it was easier when there was that moment of immediacy, when there was a short window of opportunity. "Ellie's only going to be in town this weekend," versus "She's in Ithaca, we can see her any time." And I don't think those are conscious thoughts, conscious decisions, it's just human nature.

Everyone has their own life, their own routine, their own "thing," and I moved back here. And nothing really changed for them. They went on with their life, their routine, their "thing." And my life was suddenly new and different, and I guess I expected to fit into their routine. And it doesn't always happen that way.

What I do with this, I'm not sure. I guess I accept it. I don't see me moving again but that's never entirely out of the question. I accept it or I let it continue to bother me. And that wouldn't be any fun, would it?