Post-Philly-Depression

Turns out leaving Philly is always just as hard, no matter the duration of time spent there.
One month, two months, one week- it's all the same.
I return to Utah missing the vegetation, the coffee shop, their house, now their dogs.
Marcy and Chris.
I sit on a couch at home missing their couch.
I turn on the tv wishing it were theirs.

I jump back into my realistic routine of life completely unfocused.
Missing Chris's non-stop stupid jokes that I find funnier than anyone else.
Missing hanging out in the office talking to Marcy.
Missing it all.

It's the same every time.
Should it be this hard? or should I take this as a sign...