Home :: 10 minute exercise (text)

Document
Cover Image

HOME


 


I scramble through my iPod, searching for that perfect song. The one song to get me out of this prison I've created for myself, something that would remind me of home.


 


Home.


 


Another four-letter word that the world fails to comprehend, placing subjective ideals on where we can find ourselves.


 


I let out an exasperated sigh; nothing seems to be clicking. Looking for musicians from home doesn't necessarily make me think of home. Its the low lights of city nightlife, the passing of cars on I-5 while I wander to my favorite coffee shop in search of a warm drink in the perpetual autumn Seattle boasts year round that remind me of home; it IS home.


 


Will it help, finding sounds that bring back the memory of sights and embraces far from my touch? I'm unsure of what to call home these days. Perhaps its simply homesickness that begets the regret upon my lips. I did ask for this job, after all. I told myself that escaping my hometown would bring me closer to a place I've longed to call my own. But my little naive heart at the time thought it meant in a new place, that freshness of adventure would give grounding for my unrooted identity.


 


Yet I still shuffle through my iPod, hoping to find a song, a beat, a chord or three that strikes the feeling of home I've left behind. This runaround has brought nothing but tears and instability and fear that, maybe, I won't be able to come home. That I will have changed too much to remember what home is.


 


Coffee shops at 1am. Crayon drawings and 12-egg omelets at 3am. Hunting for tea shops and vegan fare the next afternoon. All in one city, this intricate, layered imperfect city I have chosen to call home. 


 


What's that song I used to walk to in the rain? Without my umbrella, my headphones tucked within my windbreaker safe from water exposure. It was melancholy, sweet and nostalgic, but it always made me feel safe, and that no matter where I traveled, that song would always protect me to lead me home. Not just the house where my family resided but that four-letter word meaning protection, promise, a sense of identity grounded by choice. 

Created: Aug 05, 2012

Tags:

anosako Document Media