go home

I could use a quiet evening.

where i know the streets and they know me.
where the worst rainy days are the most beautiful in the world.
where every face is familiar even when not aquainted.
where i can breathe.
where happiness is normalacy.
where i can watch the sunset and think i’m the richest boy in the world.
where i want to be.

I’m going to quit whining and do what I can to make this happen. If I focus on a practical plan, it should be doable by late summer… _{and that’d be just the right time :)}

it has been far too long.

I am going to be home in around 10 days. I am super excited. My family does not know I am coming; it’s going to be a surprise. I’ve told all but 1 of my friends [surprise for her too…] and have some good plans. I cannot WAIT to see everyone again—and just be back; I know it will help me appreciate where I am now.

The city has the same bones but the features have changed. It has the same way of moving, but the trees, the beloved, beloved trees have changed over the last fifteen or twenty years. So many are gone now. Others who were young are real trees now, the tall silent gods grown up from the saplings that I used to be able to swing on.

Now all the trees in the playground are gone. In fact the playground is gone. They have fenced it so that it cannot be reached from the school and the children must spend their recess either in doors or in the street. So strange.

I miss much about the city. The feel of the university district is one thing. But I am learning to love where I live and the place where I once I belonged has passed into the hands of other people.

My reptilian brain knows the layout of those streets. I know the casts of light, the shapes of the skyline as I turn corners. My feet remember the feel of steps and sidewalks and my nose remembers the smells, of library and vestibule, of metro and park. And yet, all this is mine, no longer.

I know I will want to go back again. It was good to go back. It cost me about $300 for the trip which is not excessive. I mean to go back again, perhaps in the spring, perhaps taking my son with me.

Perhaps if I go back often enough the ache of nostalgia will go away. I feel like I am trying to outgrow phantom limb pain.

At 5:40 tomorrow afternoon the overnight bus leaves for Montreal… and my plan is to be on it!

This morning at work I was snivelling with homesickness. “Alright, that’s it,” I said to myself. “If I’m that upset about it…”

I e-mailed my daughter who has offered crash space. I e-mailed my boss who has approved three days vacation. I am now scheduled to head to Montreal, by bus on Thursday the 30th. My mind is boggled. I’m going!

I dunno how I'm going to pay for it, of course...

But if we can afford to send S and the kids to Maine we can afford to send me to Montreal.

Happy Dondy here…

I’ve been home since early June and its been going good. I’m so happy to be home.

Home is Westmount, in Montreal.

No particular hope of doing this any time soon

Two weeks home after two years gone. Going back was certainly helpful in more ways than one. I’m seeing things more realistically, which I’ll get to in a minute.

The whole journey was an event in itself. I arrived in Amsterdam to catch the flight to Houston. Just by looking at the passengers I knew this was the flight before I even checked to make sure. I can’t say what told me exactly, but I suspect many things – the diversity of people, the jeans and baseball caps – everything screamed Americans. It was a nice feeling. I settled in to wait for the flight to board and overheard a middle aged woman discussing airport security with her husband. “Well they do sell drugs here” she drawled.
It made me smile. Attitudes are so different in Europe. So what if you can go into a coffee house and buy a space cake or if you can buy nudie magazines at the local gas station? There’s no concern or judgement really, people mind their own business. Or at least it seems that way.

During the flight a TV show was playing and all the passengers seemed to be enjoying it. I finally asked they guy next to me what the name of the show was – something to do with Vegas. He looked shocked. “I thought you were American?” “I am” I replied, “just haven’t been home in a long time.” I felt that first sense that this might be a shock for me, that I was really out of touch with what is happening in America.

The doors opened as I walked through customs and I felt a whoosh of air conditioning. It made me delighted, I haven’t felt anything like that it a long time. Nothing like freezing cold air conditioning in Texas during the summer to make you feel at home.

The hugs from my family were heavenly and they quickly whisked me off to a Mexican restaurant as I had asked prior to coming home (after dashing around the corner for my first cigarette in 15 hours). As we are driving around in my parents tank like vehicle (Chevy Tahoe), the discussion of politics begins with strong points of view and conspiracy theories. Like I never left…

The Houston freeway made me quite nervous. Five lane highways with cars flying by in any given lane and trucks barreling on cars and switching lanes. It made me think of the Autobahn with the rules of passing only on the left and trucks always in the right lane, so orderly compared to the absolute chaos of an American interstate. My discomfort was quickly replaced by hunger as we pulled into one of my favorite mexican restaurants. I just ordered the biggest guacamole they served and chowed down. Amazing!

Within days I was already adjusted as if I’d never left. I watched tons of TV, drank tea and coke with ICE, and used my credit card everywhere. So many stores with so much stuff, it was overwhelming. I quickly grew tired of shopping and spent time relaxing by the pool and working on my tan. It was wonderful. I even drove by my house. I avoided it at first, thinking it would make me sad, but it didn’t. I noticed the trees I’d planted had grown and it looked good. I felt peace rather than sadness.

Returning to Germany was hard at first. For the first two weeks I was pretty homesick and depressed. My mind was back in the States with my family. But once that passed my attitudes began to change. I noticed I didn’t fantasize about being home when things are hard here. My “grass is greener” attitude was gone. It began to settle in that home is not some perfect place to idealize, but a place to live with all the struggles, frustration, and happiness that comes with day to day life. I noticed myself feeling more content in Germany, still wanting to go back to the States sometime in the near future, but without the urgency.

Home can wait. I’m here for now and actually okay with it in a way I’ve never been before. Going home was one of the best experiences I’ve had in the past few years.

I’m looking forward to doing it again.