I went home for Christmas and it wasn't home anymore. That's how I know.
(Oh well, we all have to grow up someday.)
It sure was nice to have some peace and quiet for two days straight, though. To be able to walk outside and hear nothing but silence, DEAFENING SILENCE, and the distant gobble of wild turkeys.
3 comments:
Just because going back to the frozen north didn't feel like home doesn't make you a Californian. In fact, even if returning to your apartment in SP felt like returning home that *still* doesn't make you a Californian. THAT stigma, my friend, is one that I can reasonably think you wise enough to avoid ever legitimately deserving.
;)
heh. well I'll take your word for it :)
I wonder what it means to be a Californian. I certainly left my heart in the orange glow of the hills of Ventura County.... oh, I miss those hills.
I can feel a few thin roots cautiously burrowing into my current locale... will I become a there-ite too?
Somehow we are wanderers on a lifelong pilgrimage and also leave something of ourselves everywhere we go...without necessarily losing anything. And both of these are as they should be.
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