Home?
Any Floridians reading this will be miffed with me (do ya'll say "miffed" out here?). I was ready to get back. It was nice to see friends, special to hug them and be washed in their love - but dude. I couldn't stay another day, I thought I would lose my mind. Almost as if this one real escape (the coming to California - the decision and the follow-through) was in jeopardy the longer I stayed. I could see from the other side of the fence, and the grass aint greener - it's gold.
I couldnt wait for the plane to land - by the way, non-stop flights from Florida to California suck ASS; gimme a bad meal and a bathroom break, something that lets me move my leg more than once in 6 hours. We circled the city and I found myself saying, "Oh thank god, I'm Home," and immediately realized the inaccuracy of the statement, or, at the very least, the strange and unexpected application of the label.
How can a place I've known for four months be home? Still I can't help but feel better here, more in tune, more exposed to things I want to do that I havent even thought of yet. This space is finally mine. The box top is open, with no packaging instructions, no final destination. Am I wrong to feel so gloriously unencumbered, far from obligations I barely realized were suffocating me until I breathed here.
Does the simplicity of distance warrant the shedding? Am I allowed to be free of the coat of needs that those at home still require of me, should I entertain guilt at not wanting to wear it? Because I dont feel guilty, and that feels foreign. I stop in this newness that has not yet worn off, and remind myself to remember There. And it's a fondness that rises in me, though I dont stop long. I smile and send energy, but I dont really want to know what might be miserable or miserably same. I want to leave There where it is.
I cannot speak this without causing people pain. I feel I could never explain to satisfaction the difference between internal and external co-habitiation. That pains me. But I am surprised at how little. Time, maybe, to accept that finding me involves necessary loss. I just thought I would miss it more. But there seems no time for that, or reason.
The It I have missed for so long is becoming. The Instead is home now, the What Next. And the flowers along my stone steps, the lights along the mountain ridges, the city skyline, the knowledge from new mouths and pages answer "Anything."
I couldnt wait for the plane to land - by the way, non-stop flights from Florida to California suck ASS; gimme a bad meal and a bathroom break, something that lets me move my leg more than once in 6 hours. We circled the city and I found myself saying, "Oh thank god, I'm Home," and immediately realized the inaccuracy of the statement, or, at the very least, the strange and unexpected application of the label.
How can a place I've known for four months be home? Still I can't help but feel better here, more in tune, more exposed to things I want to do that I havent even thought of yet. This space is finally mine. The box top is open, with no packaging instructions, no final destination. Am I wrong to feel so gloriously unencumbered, far from obligations I barely realized were suffocating me until I breathed here.
Does the simplicity of distance warrant the shedding? Am I allowed to be free of the coat of needs that those at home still require of me, should I entertain guilt at not wanting to wear it? Because I dont feel guilty, and that feels foreign. I stop in this newness that has not yet worn off, and remind myself to remember There. And it's a fondness that rises in me, though I dont stop long. I smile and send energy, but I dont really want to know what might be miserable or miserably same. I want to leave There where it is.
I cannot speak this without causing people pain. I feel I could never explain to satisfaction the difference between internal and external co-habitiation. That pains me. But I am surprised at how little. Time, maybe, to accept that finding me involves necessary loss. I just thought I would miss it more. But there seems no time for that, or reason.
The It I have missed for so long is becoming. The Instead is home now, the What Next. And the flowers along my stone steps, the lights along the mountain ridges, the city skyline, the knowledge from new mouths and pages answer "Anything."
posted by greenthnkng @ 11:30 PM
1 Comments:
At 12:25 AM,
Michelle Puckett said…
preach on, sister, preach! yes, love, u ARE home here. i don't think that has to make florida any less home, cali and florida can share that title. i can't wait to see what's next! xo.
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