Saturday, February 27, 2010

Is this the part where you let go?

Today marks about a month. A month of living in the United States of America again, and a month of living without the life I came to love, adore, and live comfortably and cozy in. What has come of me, I wonder? And perhaps you do too. Which is why I'll write.

There is a song I've been listening to on repeat, and it speaks of the places in which you've lived, where you've laid your head, and of holding half an acre. I think of the acre of Thailand I hold, and will always, tight in whitened knuckles.



As for my acre? My acre is green, vast, and alive. My acre is not like anything I'd ever known, but it proved as welcoming as they come. I made some friends upon this acre. Some hung my laundry, others brewed me coffee when I was low, some sold me water and milk. Some of them even watched me cry, sat with me at the edge of my bed, and later made me laugh to better tears. I made a family there, and have been lonely for them. I've been lonely for little voices who mispronounce my name. Oh, what an acre. I've wanted to know the scent of that land deeply again. To take in it's fresh and lively perfumes that offered me great energy, that changed me, grew me. Is this the part where I let go? I'm certain I can't, and won't. I'll imagine the acre in my mind. And in the mean time, I'll explore this new acre of life ahead of me. It's budding with energy, and it seems to be beckoning me. Another half an acre of Ohio will simply have to do.

Oh, the acres knitted together. What a beautiful landscape, our life!

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Somewhere over the earth.


I’ve returned from an exotic place I’ve been, and it’s a bit strange to speak of a ‘big adventure’ that has turned quickly from coconuts and calm to my knees sunk deep in Ohio snow. But, yes! This is adventure, too. So I’ve come to write.

What is the odyssey that has been coming home? My bed isn’t as stiff as it should be, my trips to grab a bite have become 10 miles too long, and the little voices that once called on me each morning fade more and more each moment. But I have come home. And I recall longing desperately for home, and all its comfort and familiarities. But it seems that I am someone I haven’t always been, and for this reason all is not what I expected. Is it ever?

When I stepped off the plane I remember thinking ‘Business, blue tooths, and Burger King’- this is what America is all about. But I realized the importance of putting on a lens in which I seek the beauty in this place. And I have indeed found it, in much time. There are friends whose arms reach lengths for me, family whose hearts seek to understand, there is a library where I can read and learn and grow, there are benches heaped in powder from the sky. Ohio is beautiful!

I’ve been waiting for and wanting a definition of home to offer you, but it hasn’t been coming easily. Is it the place you feel most comfortable? Perhaps. It’s where your family is? Well, now let’s define family. Is it where you come from? In this case, my home is Oklahoma. I’m not satisfied.

Now, I’m usually a bit of an editor. But because of all the energy I’ve sought in making something of ‘home’, with no luck, this will be a time in which I just write whatever comes. So bear with me! And read slowly, for it’s how I write.

Where the depths of sighs resound
and are heard
Tears caught in hands unclasped
Smiles recognized
Despite wrinkles that have come to rest aside them
Feet find their places to walk
and shoes to fill
Words nestle up to conversation
comfortably, anywhere

It’s where you’ve been all along
The part of you
With no name
no marker.
Always skimming
the lining that is home.