a casa

there's always something about changing the time zone on my computer's clock that feels meaningful. the watch gets pushed ahead or pulled back usually when the time announcement comes over the airplane's intercom as we land. the cell phone clock changes automatically when driving from one time zone to another. but often, i consciously avoid changing the clock on my little laptop. when i moved to the dale, it took me a full month to admit i no longer lived in EST and pull it back an hour. and now, i find myself hesitating to push it the other way. to admit that i am back on the east coast to stay for a while. that i live here. that i live here.

yes, this is where my stacks of books and old canvases are. this is where my snow boots sit next to my old green converses on the shelf of my closet. where the Vegetarian Epicure my mother gave me rests atop the fridge, and my chola puppet and carebear share a seat by the window. but after a year and a half, it still doesn't feel like home. i've met some wonderful people that have opened me up to new ideas, and i've certainly had my share of fun. but it still doesn't fit. i really want to like this place. i try to like it. some nights everything falls into place and the people and timing and weather and architecture all come alive and i forget the reasons i've concocted that i should think this place is wonderful and i can just feel it. but then an hour passes, and the magic is gone, and its back to consciously concentrating on the small pieces of this city that i connect to. the pieces that remind me of other places, usually.

and so, i come back here from a week in a place i love, and everything is dulled. it rains, but without ferocity. i see familiar faces, but i have to prepare myself to smile for them. i find myself in a foul mood, and not even the things that usually snap me out of it will work.

and i don't mean for this to be too self-pitying or depressing. my life is quite nice and i have people here who care about me and believe in me. i'm getting to do what i really love, for the most part, and in a place that nurtures the things i find important in life. but i'm just not sure this will ever be home. maybe i've been misinterpreting robert frost all along. maybe its not that you can't go home again, because places change. perhaps its because once you've experienced something like home, its just impossible to find again.

but i did just reset my computer's clock.