I don't actually remember my last visit back East in the fall. Even when I asked Felix, he wasn't sure; only that it was a "long, long time ago". With the craziness of senior season, I'm lucky if I have time to eat dinner, much less hop on a plane to head out to New Jersey.

But this past weekend, despite November 1 being a major early application deadline, I did indeed get on that plane, catching a red-eye Friday night and returning Sunday afternoon. My dad was being recognized by our local hospital for thirty-three years of service. How could I miss such a momentous occasion?!

All told, I was home for less than 48 hours, but it was enough to breathe in the crisp, cool air, watch deer walk through my parents' backyard, climb trees with my brother and uncle to pick apples, and admire the beautiful fall foliage in season. I was surprised by how quickly - and crushingly - the nostalgia rushed in. What was I thinking, moving to and living in California? With so little time to spare, I snapped a few pictures of a fuzzy brown n' black caterpillar, Rob in the apple tree, and a dappled and brilliant red maple, hoping that these small tidbits would suffice once I got back on the plane.

Yet even now, as I sit here and look out the window at the evergreen shrubbery and drizzly rain, I feel restless. My heart is uneasy, and I miss home.