you can’t have it both ways. no matter how much you want something. i wish we weren’t always so torn into two. i wanted adventure, a never-ending list of things to do on any given day, worldly food options, foreign language, and markets.
i still want those things, they are a part of who i am, but i also find myself yearning for the kind of comforts that only home can bring – the wood burning stove, the empty fields where the earth seems to stop spinning, familiar streets blanketed in stories only i know…
and no one hugs me like my mom hugs me.
you’re always aching. when the anticipation of leaving home peaks into impatience and frustration at still being there, the little voice inside your conscious tells you to slow down, to be present for and mentally photocopy the moments that are left for witnessing, and you do. thinking it makes the whole process smoother, healthier, you try to memorize the lines of your family’s faces, you try to imprint the hug from a friend, knowing it will be the last sensation of touch between the two of you for a very long time. you can do your best to memorize the tension and energy of that feeling but when the world spins and you’re left on the other side of it, the very nature of human memory has rendered your desperate attempts to keep your loved ones around you null and void.
i get to experience all of this again in the next two weeks. tomorrow, i depart the uk from gatwick and am flying directly into sunny florida. my dad is already there waiting for me, him and other family members i haven’t seen in a very long time. being the saccharine person that i sometimes excel at being, i am already making a mental note:
don’t spend too much time taking photos…
but take enough.
this post has been a tad too weepy, a tiny bit heartbreaking.
the truth is, i am elated.
i am so happy to be seeing my family and spending time in a location that for me truly is one of the happiest places on earth. it’s where i have ventured to nearly every year of my entire life. it brings back my grandfather, it brings back the first thrills associated with travel, and it brings back the revelation that my parents were always more than just parents, they were friends.