Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Home or Something Like That

I'm currently reading Sonja Livingston's book Ghostbread, a lyrical memoir about her childhood and growing up in extreme poverty (which is fantastic so far). The book has made me think about home and place, especially since I now am a California resident. My move this week was surreal: there were moments when I thought about the future, this moment right now, sitting on Sal's couch in our apartment. Here I am, drinking my coffee, going through my email. It feels like home is nowhere or somewhere between places, hidden in a crevice between Pennsylvania and California.

I know that familiar places impact me, but mostly because of the memories I have with specific people in those places. People are my homes. My mom got a little weepy on the phone this morning. I got really sad thinking about my grandmother and her age. The unthinkable goodbyes. I have spent time imagining my friends, what they are doing in Pittsburgh, whether they are shopping at a farmer's market or going for a walk in Frick Park. Museums, readings, parties.

But now I just had a thought: I can, if I want, get on a bus and go to the SFMOMA or the Beat Museum. I can ride a trolley or go to the dog park two blocks from my apartment and make some friends, canine or otherwise. I might not have as many people to do these things with, but I will. Technology helps ease the transition. I just talked to Lindsey via video chat. I need to get my parents a web camera and teach them how to use gchat. I'll make friends eventually. Patience.

I have a lot of options. Now begins the narrowing down process. First though, I think I'll have some coffee and look at the view from my kitchen.


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