Sunday, April 02, 2006
If you think that I could be forgiven, wish you would
Familiarity has many different owners. It has different locations, numerous predictors, and a variety of sentiments attached simply to the word "familiarity". It has a mixture of sentiment, memories, and emotions.
Familiarity is home and evergreens. It is rain and Mexican food bought at restaurants. It is a lot of pavement, gigantic grocery stores, and English as the primary communication. It includes selfishness and a struggle for humility. Familiarity means going to see Grandma at the Kaiser ER and Hospital. It means going to Target. It means a warm home to come back to, and a roommate that missed us. It means Powell's, and growing up in Southeast. It means seeing Mt. Hood on a sunny day.
Familiarity comes in different forms, though. Familiarity to me also means cattle grazing and golden fields. It means dark, crowded, sweaty venues with music much too loud for anybody's good, and walking to the car through a cloud of slightly blue smoke. It means the back of my jeans are wet. It means my car is much, much lower than my mom's. It means dust bunnies, too much stuff in the fridge, and still struggling with classroom management.
Another, more distant familiarity is home cooked Mexican food. That familiarity is surrounded by long drives, using gas station bathrooms, and the much anticipated In-n-Out. The actual familiarity of place means two lane highways with drop offs (and no driveways). Faded signs that are outdated, buildings that are vacated, and stray dogs. Homemade tortillas, struggling with communication, and worrying about lice. This familiarity means less showers, more sun, and clothes line dried in the Mexican sun. This familiarity is not home, but is so close it nearly feels as such.
Another familiarity includes not eating meat. A year ago today the Pope died and I decided to go vegetarian. How did I celebrate? I spent this last week eating meat. I know that's hypocritical, but Mexico is one of my outs, one of my "get out of jail free" cards, and I traded it in liberally. I actually can't believe it's lasted this long.
Familiarity is long and fast, slow and fleeting, near and abundantly far. Home is here, but familiarity seems to be all of the places, things, and people I love the most.
If I lived 'til I was a hundred and two...
Familiarity has many different owners. It has different locations, numerous predictors, and a variety of sentiments attached simply to the word "familiarity". It has a mixture of sentiment, memories, and emotions.
Familiarity is home and evergreens. It is rain and Mexican food bought at restaurants. It is a lot of pavement, gigantic grocery stores, and English as the primary communication. It includes selfishness and a struggle for humility. Familiarity means going to see Grandma at the Kaiser ER and Hospital. It means going to Target. It means a warm home to come back to, and a roommate that missed us. It means Powell's, and growing up in Southeast. It means seeing Mt. Hood on a sunny day.
Familiarity comes in different forms, though. Familiarity to me also means cattle grazing and golden fields. It means dark, crowded, sweaty venues with music much too loud for anybody's good, and walking to the car through a cloud of slightly blue smoke. It means the back of my jeans are wet. It means my car is much, much lower than my mom's. It means dust bunnies, too much stuff in the fridge, and still struggling with classroom management.
Another, more distant familiarity is home cooked Mexican food. That familiarity is surrounded by long drives, using gas station bathrooms, and the much anticipated In-n-Out. The actual familiarity of place means two lane highways with drop offs (and no driveways). Faded signs that are outdated, buildings that are vacated, and stray dogs. Homemade tortillas, struggling with communication, and worrying about lice. This familiarity means less showers, more sun, and clothes line dried in the Mexican sun. This familiarity is not home, but is so close it nearly feels as such.
Another familiarity includes not eating meat. A year ago today the Pope died and I decided to go vegetarian. How did I celebrate? I spent this last week eating meat. I know that's hypocritical, but Mexico is one of my outs, one of my "get out of jail free" cards, and I traded it in liberally. I actually can't believe it's lasted this long.
Familiarity is long and fast, slow and fleeting, near and abundantly far. Home is here, but familiarity seems to be all of the places, things, and people I love the most.
If I lived 'til I was a hundred and two...
