Last post from Brooklyn.

Bags packed. I'll be very lucky if I don't get charged for going over the weight limit, even though I put everything heavy — i.e., books — in my carry-on. I finished my last venti latte. Window sills are all dusted.

Walking back to the apartment with my paper cup of coffee, I felt a little wistful. I noticed things I'd never noticed —the smell of the water the shopkeeper was spraying on the sidewalk — and had to face the fact that there were billions of details that I'd failed to perceive in my 9-month stay. Too late now. Look at all the people I've never met, and — worse — the people I only just met and barely got to know.

I can count it as a positive that leaving the place gives some understanding of all these failures — all these hidden riches. And a trip away from home makes me love home so much more.

It's the thought of going home — of Madison — that moves me the most right now.