Home

I’d say that there is no real “home” in the static sense that the word implies. Like us, homes change, sometimes quickly and entirely as in a move, or fire, or the arrival of guests, but most often through the accumulation of changes we think little about. Replanting flower beds, replacing a microwave, moving a picture or a book case. Its weird how homes echo too, every time I go to my parents house I expect to see and hear about 6 or 7 kids of various ages running around, ping pong noise coming from the basement, my dad tilling one of the gardens, the thwack of my brother practicing archery, fireworks going off somewhere. Thomas Wolfe said that we can’t go home again, and I do believe that. The most dramatic break with home for me was the day I got my license because after that everything was about leaving rather than going and returning. I haven’t been home in a long time. Oh how I tried though, I went back nearly every weekend of my freshman year at Carolina. But I was trying to hold on to something that had already vanished, that had disappeared sometime in high school without me even noticing. All I accomplished was to bench myself for over a year. We have to move on, it’s a necessary thing, but if you can gaze happily back through a flurry of years to some remembered place it gets hard, its painfully bittersweet. Suddenly realizing that you cannot, under any circumstances, recreate that place, the warmth, the sounds, the smells, the creaks and mild inconveniences – it can take your breath away. I have not slept in my old bed room, the one with the stupid lamborghini poster I got in third grade and the shelves I made with my dad, and my old blankets in at least 5 years. I don’t even remember what it was like, although I never really spent much time there other than to read. I don’t have a home right now, that is not melodrama, I have no idea where I’m going or what I’ll be doing a year from now. I love the house I’m in, but the march of days and deadlines towards graduation is a constant reminder that this is just temporary lodging, a brief interlude wedged uneasily between a new and uncomfortable awareness that I am, actually, finally, a grown up and….the rest of my life. – March 21, 2010

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s