"When I first moved here, I loved to ride the elevated trains, especially at night, when I could glimpse the thousands of glowing windows, each an indication of a life or a cluster of lives, as rich and difficult and sweet as my own. Glimpsing inside, seeing the moment when the lights go on — or off — is a confirmation of our likenesses, our common depths."

I read this today in article about New York and it made me think of  riding back to my homestay in Paris.  Looking into the windows of the apartment buildings always gave me the feeling the author describes, but also something else.  Dating back to my years living away from home in high school, a lit window seen from the street would strike me with a pang, reminding me more of the home I was missing then the place to which I was heading.  I'd like to think that this feeling has lessened over the years, as my sense of home has expanded to fit the people and places that occupy a larger percentage of my life.  And so luckily, with a few timely trips home, I can enjoy fully the cooling weather and the shortening days, and feel at home, even when away.