coming home to tejas always spins a twinge of nostalgia–a little bit heartwarming, a little bit blasé–in my heart and mind. i lose myself in the familiarity of it all. the roads. the expansion. the southern fried delciousness. the open fields. the manic weather. the smells in my mother’s kitchen. my friends. my family. the accents. the pace. apartment complex after apartment complex. cookie cutter stability. the ever-sprawling suburbia. the blatant disregard for trees and land to make room for yet another mecca of shopping centers and chain restaurants designed solely for convenience. smoky bars. (i forgot how much that stale stank seeps into your clothing and hair and remains even post shower.) the ease and humility of my upbringing.
eventually, though, you leap out of the nest and learn to fly (to the far reaches of the great white north, in my case), leaving behind everything you’ve ever known. and then–then, you do something crazy like fall in love. real love. the kind that leaves no question, no doubt. the kind that wraps you in blankets soft as kittens, sweeps you into the stars in one fell swoop and links your heart to theirs with just one look.
and you realize, home isn’t defined by its locale at all. it’s a feeling. it’s a movement. it’s a smile. it’s knowing that this, THIS, is where i belong–right here with you, wherever that may be.
edward sharpe & the magnetic zeros say it best for me in this striking tune, “home”:
home / let me come home / home is wherever i’m with you
home / yes i am home / home is when i’m alone with you