we'd always refer to "back home" as "point a" - the starting line, a mark for comparison's sake.
back home, i used to drift and haunt on two feet; valleys, mountaintops, fields of grass limited me to an urbane, suburban setting.
back home, i am now living the convertible dream i never had, rolling down both windows, driving 60 in a 35 with the dense summer sunset splayed out across the front windshield. i've always liked how neat my hair is, and how easily i could mess it up.
