Further
I have traveled back in time to the frozen tundra, leaving Veronica the bee-atch, with her pedicures and her goldness, behind. (Actually this memorable AJ quote, in the form of a text message, was plural: "You bee-atches with your pedicures and your goldness"). My mind carries already-distant recollections of unending 80-degree days, clear ocean nights, dolphins swimming right offshore... shared, paid for, protected in gated affluence.
On the plane, two men wearing camoflage hunting hats sit like bookends on each side of a muslim woman in long robes, head covered. The best of the midwest. I nod off, come-to, read Drop City, wonder if it matters where you are.
Strangely as we land it feels like home, with its familiar cold humidity, distance between people, backyards, knot in the stomach, work in the morning. It doesn't feel so bad. I'm back, kids.
posted by MJ @ 8:03 PM
2 comments
2 Comments:
A sincere welcome back to you! I hope it was everything you needed and wanted it to be. I could use a dose of Naples myself.
"Strangely as we land it feels like home, with its familiar cold humidity, distance between people, backyards, knot in the stomach, work in the morning. It doesn't feel so bad. I'm back, kids." How adeptly put. Isn't it odd (and wonderful) what passes for home and makes us feel secure and comfortable--even in our discomfort?
Hope to see some pictures. I'd like to see the pier again, from a distance.
R.
Thanks, Ryan. Yea, it feels good and bad to be home ...like normal. I like what you said about "what passes for home and makes us feel secure and comfortable--even in our discomfort". Sometimes like abused children or battered wives we stay and find "comfort" too long. Or perhaps we leave. Maybe it's better.
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