returning home

Returning home. This can mean so many things, and I think I’d like to hash out what it means to me. It’s full of a grand mixture of emotions and senses. The senses are much easier to define. I am tired. I am so tired, I’ve been traveling for months (years?) and I crave my bed, even though I don’t have one. My skin and eyeballs feel dry and my mouth is parched. My legs are cramped. I want out of this plane. But not before we have a safe landing, of course. All things in their due time.

I crave home. Whatever that is and wherever it is. I’ll make one soon.

I’m better at speaking of my emotions. Sometimes. I’m super damn good at feeling them, but expressing them isn’t always as easy. I feel excited and anxious. I want to see people who I miss, see what they look like, feel how they feel when we hug, and what their energy is like, know their thoughts and ideas, cause they must have changed a lot!

And I feel this pit-in-my-stomach kind of sadness that is just going to have to be part of this piece of writing cause I cannot avoid it. It’s a bittersweet homecoming. There’s no bitterness about coming home, but bitterness about coming home alone. I left with my love, I come home alone. And so it is.

I want to remember everything, but I also want to forget. Maybe it would be easier. I just don’t know.

Returning home. It’s not simple, but it’s perfect. It’s appropriate and necessary and something I’ve longed for for longer than I should have, perhaps. So the cocktail of emotions is appropriate, and I’m just me, so who could have expected less?

I love where I am from, the Pacific Northwest, and more specifically Portland, but Seattle is where I will call home for some time, how long? I don’t know… There’s a lot of “I don’t knows” these days.

photo credit

But this I know: I’m comin' home!