2007-03-17
nost.all.gia
Being at home again is giving me some odd sense of nostalgia, like when you start seeing in sepia and huffing your shoulders with a deep inhalation just by gaping at the profound familiarity of it all.
So maybe not quite like that. But close.
Today I walked past your house on the way to the park. I let my fingers graze each white stake of your picket fence and looked up to the window of the room where you used to sleep, the room where the poster with the different kind of pasta types hung on the yellow wall. The room with your dragon collection, the room I never spent much time in until the day you were to leave for Yale, when Petie and I unleashed our tears together on your bed sheet, huddled and weeping. Now you guys are both gone, in other countries, other worlds. It�s cool. I�m just home to visit anyway. While I�m here, I�ll walk to Woodland, climb the trees, admire the ducks and geese on your behalf. I�ll wander around and reacquaint myself with the old sidewalks and country roads that I used to venture upon so frequently.
I�ll think about the ten weeks to come, and how trying to capture the essence of time and life progress is like nailing an egg to the wall (what a weird image, eh?). In a few months, I�ll be done with my first year of college. Three more will follow. Will this home become more redolent each and every time, as I faintly slip away from it each time I return? When we all meet again, will it feel like some odd reunion rather than the nonchalant enjoyment it always was?
I know things have always been changing. It�s dynamic; such is life. But somewhere in my mind I seem to group these last years as a standstill, a time of steady companionship, favorite places, and good talks, songs, and dances. And there�s some sort of sentimental solace there, there in my mind. It�s what makes me sigh when I walk past these places- Conrad Mansion, JD�s, Lawrence Park, thinking of all the games and grass-layings and good times in some weird hazy cloud of memory and reverie. It wasn�t that long ago, but it feels far from where I am, in a world of the library, beer pong, and constant cafeteria food.
I miss you all, and being home is like having a piece again. Like having a peace again. I�ve got these mountains, and the alpenglow upon the eastern mountains, that golden purple, as the sun slides past the western ones. You�ll be back, when I�ll be back, soon enough.
No one really gets time. It just simply makes no sense how things pass by, seem inconsistent, sparkle and fade. I�m here for another week. I don�t know how long that will last besides the quantity of seven days. But while I can, I�ll soak up the big sky and relish in our favorite places and things, my friends, not as reminiscent memories but rather for my own happiness and sense of self, and anticipation of the sweet summer. Summer with an emphasis on the �mm� part.
For now, happy spring. The stuff will blossom, and the snow is gone. I�m here with my nostalgia, in this old house, with a family I deeply love. I�m going to go sigh some more, gazing around at the hominess of home, but mostly I�ll smile as I laze about (far from schoolwork) and smile at reminders of the past while feeling the tingling anticipating of the coming sweet summer. How�s that for cheesy? Here comes the deep sigh.
leesah-likes at 9:55 p.m.