Setaú úta (setauuta) wrote,
Setaú úta

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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