Sunday, July 4, 2010
There's only one place they call me one of their own
I recently went to my extended families hometown for a visit, thirsty.....but I didn't know I was. Needing to be close to my family where love seemingly flows from a spring, and where I receive reminders of who I am and where I came from, I returned to where I live now, what I now call home, restored, quenched even. I didn't realize how thirsty I was actually. I think it hit me when I was driving on a long highway stretch, within an hour of my destination. The sun was starting to lower behind me, and everything looked green, even the air if thats possible. I don't know if I can describe this well enough to give it justice. I could see the completely round sphere of yellow orange in my rear view mirror, I had music playing, the highway ribboning in front of me as I pressed forward. I glanced to the left and saw a barn sticking out of an almost sepia-like color of field and fence and farmland, the roof the most vibrant red I've seen in a long time. I wanted to stop and try to capture it with my camera, but my right foot refused to ease up on the gas pedal, I was going home. To family. As I drove I came across a highway sign that was dedicated to a couple who have been married for over 50 years, and have since passed on. It hit me right then. This is what I'm talking about. Love. That lasts a lifetime. Family. My roots. Where I go to ask, who am I again? I seem to have lost myself somewhere, in the mix of the pace we all run beginning with each morning at the crack of dawn. The busy-ness of life, the rat race, the day to day office politics that I detest, the traffic, the details, the paying of bills, and mundane things we have to do when we signed up for adulthood. "Hey did I sign up for this?" I often muse to myself, jokingly mind you.
See, when I go home, I get to relive that carefree feeling of childhood. I get to go to my moms and let her do her thing, which is, be my mom, and she does it well. I get to go to my sisters, my favorite part of my childhood, and say things to her that only she would understand, things that sprang from various stories from when we were growing up. I get to see my Dads smile light up his face because I'm back in his town for a visit. And one of my most favorite things, I get to make a few calls saying, "hey, I'm here, lets get together" and then see my whole family show up for the very thing I invited them to. I drink from the well of familial love and adoration. These people would do anything for me, and I know this like I know my name is Tiffany, and always will be. There is nothing greater than this feeling. My friends are very important to me, but so is my family. I am part of them, and they are a part of me, it feels like the biggest circle of love and life I've ever seen.
I did a lot of reflecting this short trip home. Every morning I took some time for myself at a very early hour, journal and camera entow, to the coffee shop on the quaint little square of my hometown. Once I had my cup of awesome, I sat down at a window table, overlooking the street directly across from the courthouse, and I wrote out my thoughts. After I finished, I then drove around and took pictures, something I have always wanted to do but never took the time. There's something about the sound of driving down a brick street, YES they still have them!, listening to my favorite music, and whipping the car into a parking space quickly if I instantly became inspired enough to turn the camera on and snap a few pictures. I was laughing at myself the first morning that I did this, because of the early hour I found that I just stopped in the middle of the desolate street, hopped out of the car, and snapped away, not realizing that I didnt even bother to get out of the middle of the road. There was no traffic, who was I hurting? =)
I remember the third day I went into "Java" (thats the coffee shop, appropriate yes?) the guy behind the counter asked, "are you a student?" Dude if you want a tip just let me do it, there's no reason to butter me up here. (I'm laughing as I type) I said, "Yes. Of life" He smiled and said, "rock on", as he handed me the iced coffee.
When he asked, on the last morning, "see you tomorrow?' I replied, kind of sadly now that I think about it, "not tomorrow, but soon" and smiled.
If you don't have a coffee shop, go somewhere. Anywhere you can find, where you can gather your thoughts quietly. Write them out. Take a walk, and some pictures along the way if you want to. The end result is something you will have with you always.
For breakfast lets have coffee, writing, music, and the food of your choice. Okay?
Until next time,
Jon Bon Jovi said it (sang it) best, "who says, you can't go home? There's only one place they call me one of their own"