I wanna go home
A friend recently wrote on my fb wall, “you have 650 friends…how loved you must be!!” Sidebar: The fact that I deleted 200 “friends” recently and I’m at 650 is a little weird. Nonetheless, I am indeed loved by many. J
The past two and a half weeks have been bananas, in a good way. I’ve been traveling all over the place to visit friends and family. I’m exhausted. The kind of exhausted that greets you with morning with a vertigo handshake.
I drove to State College to visit an old friend…perhaps one of the oldest and most intimate. She was in my student home when I was in middle school and I chose to go to my high school student home because she was there. She was who I wanted to be when I grew up. She listened to the Doors, and Grateful Dead, and I’m pretty sure she’s the reason I developed a crush on Kurt Cobain. Somehow she got our houseparents to allow her to get a bird and keep it in our room. I love(d) her dearly. It’s funny how some people just feel like home. I like that. People who feel like warm chocolate chip cookies and milk.
I’m staying with a family who I met through work. She was my co-worker, then my friend, then my boss, then my co-worker, then just my friend. She’s pregnant with her 2nd child (I hope labor happens soon because she might just go nuts). She and her husband have introduced me to what it’s like to be amazing people and raise a child. Their son is one of my favorite beings on this planet. Here’s to hoping that baby number two graces us with his presence before I head out to the Pacific Northwest.
On June 5th two of my friends from college got married. The bride is one of my best friends. I think it’s because we both have a similar grasp on the frailty of human relationships. We expect the same kindness from the world that we give, and tend to take it personally when it’s a bit stingy giving it back. The wedding was comfortable. It was gorgeous. It was them. Friends and family were in attendance. The music was straight from a playlist on one of their iPods if either of the had one. I met and got to know some of their L.A. friends and it was cool to put names to faces and spend time with the other bridesmaids. It’s the people like that that make me want to live in L.A. But then I remember that the soul of L.A. is cracked and burned and would eat me alive if I spent too much time there.
The wedding in Jamaica was quite an experience as well. I stayed with family and went to the resort in the evenings for the festivities. Capitalism is such an odd experiment. It’s allowed the people of Jamaica to live in poverty while the foreigners with wealth benefit from the countries natural resources and tourism. It’s hard to see. I’m planning on spending a lot more time in Jamaica over the next few years. I have to do something to benefit my country. I’d also like to help reconnect other Afro-Caribbeans in the States to their roots. You’ll have to check out www.19more.org for updates.
I write this to say that even though I’ve been homeless, literally, since May 25, 2010, I haven’t felt that way. Yes, it’s been a little hard to iron my clothes on a friend’s bathroom counter, pack for a three day camping trip from my car, and leave my dog with pretty much everyone I know in Central PA, but I’m still okay. I’ve moved around more often than *insert famous musician here* on a farewell tour. I used to feel lost and empty. But in adulthood I’ve made friends with my lifestyle and have realized that the people who are supposed to be in your life will be in your life regardless of distance. My definition of home transcends the Reaganomics era building surrounded by a white picket fence. Home, for me, is a feeling not a place. For once in my life I get that.