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Incubus' Drive
Josh Joplin Group's Camera One
Coldplay's Yellow
Three Doors Down's Cryptonite and Be Like That
The entire soundtrack of Shrek

Music of this past summer. I didn't realize how strong those musical memories were until I heard Be Like That on my mix CD last night, and Drive this morning from Joanne's stereo. Suddenly I was in my car, driving down the windy, narrow road I alternately loved and hated that led to campus, to spending time with dear people living near campus.

Then, I was driving down the highway at night, with hardly any company on the road, going over the tango lesson and discussions with Bret that had occurred that afternoon and evening. I got hit with a palpable wave of homesickness. I felt like the child I once was, sobbing softly into a pillow in a foreign country, sure there would never be another home for me besides the one I'd left behind.

Now? I'm writing this on a park bench about ten minutes away from the flat - and unexpected and altogether pleasant detour from routine. It is a truly lovely afternoon - the sun playing hide-and-seek behind white clouds, the trees in full autumnal glory. The pigeons are abundant, the benches are damp from a late-night rain, and the wind is biting just enough to make both gloves and scarf necessary - just enought discomfort to keep the scene on the plane of reality, rather than idyllic fantasy. Rereading the letters from loved ones, wishing to be near them - but more to have them here, than to necessarily be there myself.

It's comfortable - I know my way. The routine is strong enough to encourage structure, flexible enough to discourage monotony. I'm right, here. This is where I live, rather than where I'm staying.

Home rediscovered.

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