who only by moving can balance

Over the past few weeks I've caught myself starting to miss Belfast, a little, in a wistful sort of way. I catch myself thinking next time I go into town with the wrong referent for "town"; I look forward to breakfasts at St George's Market (and the ridiculous little cake stall), especially when I've made soda bread; the books I've been reading have included lots of descriptions of light reflecting off the water and onto the ceiling, and so I've been missing that, too.

But: for the most part, it's a pleasant kind of nostalgia. I'm glad we went; I'm glad I'm home; I'm glad I've got the memories to carry with me.