I miss San Francisco. I miss Chinatown, I miss Powell Street, I miss buying roasted chestnuts from a street vendor during Christmastime. I miss the two story Williams-Sonoma. I miss the man on the street corner shouting 'Jesus saves', I miss wandering those uneven streets, peering in the windows of art galleries and antique shops. I miss skyscrapers and ocean air and trolleys and wandering the piers laughing at the tourists. I miss taking a bay cruise out under the Golden Gate and looking up into the gray sky above, listening to seabirds scream.Even though this is my second house since northern California, sometimes homesickness will hit me so hard I can't even breathe. I want to go back. I've wanted to go back since the day I left. Is it possible for home to be a place you only lived a short time?