Home-not-home
May. 8th, 2008 09:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
brynndragonThe moment I stepped off the plane the humidity enveloped me in its tender and undeniable embrace. No matter how long I'm gone, this place will always have a feeling of home to me. The familiar roads, the buildings all the same even if the names on them have changed. . . there are new roads and new buildings where once there was forest and wild grass, but if I strain my ears I can hear the same subtle music that has always been there. The noisy cars and bland beige bricks can only cover so much.
My brother's room is an odd amalgamation: a photo of Britney Spears next to the Ten Commandments hand-written in Hebrew, a framed picture of Scarface and a large cardboard SpongeBob. Over a decade ago this was my room and while it has been entirely redone multiple times since then, it is still a comfortable and familiar space.
Here it has been Spring for well over a month. I had forgotten how right it is for now to be the time when the scent of flowering trees and plants is so strong you can almost taste it. The New England pace and timing of seasons is disorienting to me: fall there feels like spring here, only at the end of it instead of the frigid dark winter there is a burning bright summer with the frequent and welcome respite of thunderstorms. . .
This is the strangeness of returning here, knowing that I have changed so much and that Boston is my home, but also the ease of slipping into place here. Even when it no longer fits an old skin still has the comfort of its lack of scent that only one's self has. I know that it would not take too long to fall into the old conflicts if I were to stay, but hopefully a weekend is just the right amount of time to remember the good times without reopening old wounds. We'll see.
My brother's room is an odd amalgamation: a photo of Britney Spears next to the Ten Commandments hand-written in Hebrew, a framed picture of Scarface and a large cardboard SpongeBob. Over a decade ago this was my room and while it has been entirely redone multiple times since then, it is still a comfortable and familiar space.
Here it has been Spring for well over a month. I had forgotten how right it is for now to be the time when the scent of flowering trees and plants is so strong you can almost taste it. The New England pace and timing of seasons is disorienting to me: fall there feels like spring here, only at the end of it instead of the frigid dark winter there is a burning bright summer with the frequent and welcome respite of thunderstorms. . .
This is the strangeness of returning here, knowing that I have changed so much and that Boston is my home, but also the ease of slipping into place here. Even when it no longer fits an old skin still has the comfort of its lack of scent that only one's self has. I know that it would not take too long to fall into the old conflicts if I were to stay, but hopefully a weekend is just the right amount of time to remember the good times without reopening old wounds. We'll see.
