I’m still not used to being back in the land of hick accents and atrocious driving - I’m not sure that I’ll ever be used to it, as a matter of fact. It’s strange how even the most familiar of places can seem so foreign after a long enough absence. Honestly, I could drive around Springfield with my eyes closed, make it to my destination in pristine condition, and not violate any traffic laws, yet I know that I’m far less at home here that I’m far less at home here than I was in the most alien of places, leading me to suspect that ideology, philosophy, energy, and outlook have everything to do with my happiness and comfort level - a very interesting discovery to be able to vocalize and pin-point.
The biggest realization of this came about during our wanderings through Washington DC. The District is a really amazing place, admittedly, but it really did noting for me in the sense of longing to be there for the excess of a week. We saw the sights, read the history, strolled the museums, yet I couldn’t wait to leave at the end of our stay, and no, I was not wishing that I was back in good old O-town. If anything, I was wishing to be back in New York, rushing town the streets, sitting near the fountains, watching mild thunderstorms build and subside quickly.
To a certain extent, most cities are the same. They all have people; their problems; their perfections; the tragedies, dramas and comedies of humanity, but in the same vein, they are also all completely different. Whether it be the presence of someone you love, something you love, or the sway of the city in general. It’s so beautiful how a mass of concrete, metal and people can take on such a life of its own, an allure that is unmatchable by any other place by any other name.
Maybe I’m just one to fantasize and romanticize, but I’m beginning to think that there may in fact be a place out there - somewhere - where I feel as though I belong. Maybe not forever, maybe until the day I take my last breath, that remains to be seen.
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