When I came home – and by this home I mean my parents new apartment – I was entering an address that was printed on my drivers license but that I had never seen before. My parents moved here after Christmas while I was still in BC, so coming here on Canada day was going to piece together all the pictures my mom had been sending me. One thing I’ve learned since I got here, is that you know a home is new when it’s hard to walk through with the lights off. When you’re walking slower than usual, with your hands stuck out before you, because it’s nighttime and you have to pee but you’re too lazy to turn a switch on and you imagine you can navigate your way through the dark because technically, right now you live here. I feel like in your twenties the lights are always off. You’ve got the dim light from the window and you put your hands out in front of you and try and fumble around with whatever your eyes can see. You move in different directions until you hit something and you try and find a different way, over and over again. And sometimes you find yourself getting used to the darkness and the way you can move around within it. You create patterns of getting from one place to the next and the darkness becomes less and less of an obstruction to your vision. But patterns don’t last forever, not at 22. So you move over and over again and create new normalities until they too become old and you just keep trying to find your way around in the dark. The dark scares the hell out of me, but I love it all the same.