There are aspects to this that are old hat now; the trek to go pay tuition, familiar bus stops and the enjoyment of grocery shopping on my own, not to mention the more aesthetically pleasing and quirky views of my new neighborhood. The more things change the more they stay the same, however. Looking back on each move I've made, marked by the end of each academic year, I really am struck by the fact that I'm in a much more radical space and mindset than I was a year, two years ago. Previous ponderings I had earlier the summer meant had me enthusiastic for the start of term and perhaps it's because I've been floating free of the structure I'm used to or something else but I'm a little disenchanted with the reality of moving back to town again. My fault, of course, as I am prone to romanticism. But, it's this summerly move that throws light on the thoughts that I try to avoid. Chiefly, that I'm fearful that at some point home will stop feeling as such. Is it me that's changed or it? Maybe this is just the fact that I feel a bit like what I suppose a snake or lizard feels like in the process of shedding old skin. Awkward and peeling and then of course the new skins feels too tight. I'm not sure where my head is as of late. The fact is that I am also desperate to forget or acknowledge my 'old skin', not because I still want to be that person but I suppose I am afraid of forgetting or that the best parts of my former self, life, etc. will disappear and I won't know what to do.
I've read that oft piped phrase 'home is not a place' many times now and I don't if I fully agree. Perhaps yes, home is expressed and felt in certain ways and remembered in certain faces or things but in that same vein, it is a specific set of faces, a specific scent in the air, a specific bedroom and well walked tile floor and familiar trodden paths. I am afraid that I cannot take enough pictures or imprint certain angles of my parents garden and the trickling brook I grew up splashing in enough or that some winds of life will whisk me away too far that I can't ever go back to that slice of the ocean that I know as my own.
I've been writing this post over the span of a couple days and with a good night's sleep and a fresh perspective my dramatic flair has calmed a bit. I know this is something always lurking in my mind but I think I need to find other ways of capturing this sense of home, whatever that may mean. Maybe it'll be through recipes, well worn through generations, or more memories from my mom, or calling my brothers more often. I know this is something I need to explore, I just need to figure out how. Today gave me a cold autumn rain and I'm enjoying packing my knapsack for classes and anticipating being back on a schedule again. Here's once again to new beginnings.
xx.
r.
