It'll Come Back to Me

I took a short break from writing, and now I'm ready to get back to it. It feels like coming home after a long vacation. You know the feeling—the cab drops you off at your house, you walk in, it smells a little musty and closed-up, and somehow it's dinnertime but you've been existing in a different time zone and would prefer to go to bed rather than eat something. Nevermind the fact that someone has been cooking all your meals for the past week and the concept of eating at home, which was your routine before you left, now seems completely foreign. Which knife do you use to slice tomatoes? What does the oven need to be preheated to if you want to cook pizza? What's it like to drink a nonalcoholic beverage with a meal? You knew the answers at one time. And at one time, I knew what to write. Now I have to figure it out again.