There's a calmness in the familiarity of things.
It's far from boring.
It excites when you've been away from the familiar for a while, even if it's just for a few days.
It's the relief you feel after being away from home, from your bed for a weekend, a week, a month, a year.
It's the sense of surety you feel when you leave a place behind and come back to it. Everything has changed, no one you know is there, but it feels good. It feels right. It feels the same. Sometimes it feels like home.
It's not talking to a friend for years, but still being able to chat like it's only been a few hours.
It's the memories that come flooding into your conscious as you talk. You remember mannerisms and their quirky smile, the sound of their scoffing at something ridiculous or funny or unbelievable. You remember the feeling of their embrace, the smell on their shirt, the way their hair falls just over their shoulder.
There's also a sense of sadness. A feeling of loss, of something that was.
But then you fall into the routine, and the sadness and the loss drips away. Because nothing really has changed. You may have had new experiences, but the connection is still there, the thread that ties people together hasn't been severed, just stretched.
And for a moment, everything feels right in the world.
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