a little late.

wrote this on the bus ride home over the holidays:

i used to sit and watch the pourin rain
i used to wish to be home again
-guster

my 4 minute shuttle ride between Grand Central and Port Authority was packed probably with more suitcases than people at 3:45 this afternoon. i bobbed and weaved through idiot tourists in Times Square that don't know how to walk and be on vacation simultaneously. this game of frogger was joined by other travelers who were equally as pissed at these tourists as i was.

normally, the charm of the city at Christmas doesn't turn me into a scrooge--in fact i'm somewhat of an elf. but i was anxious to get to catch my bus home. after all, i had 4 cramped hours of avoiding conversation with an inevitably well dressed but portly and smellly bus partner to look forward to. hey, disgusing this avoidance as unsuccessful sleep attempts is hard work. thank god MP3players can salvage by pathetic acting.

thankfully this ride has been different. my reasonably sized, neutral-to-good smelling sidekick ditched at the Monticello stop. often times, the bus chugging through these small towns is like traveling through my past. the cars in my family could do this route on autopilot. recounting these hometown memories gets fuzzier as it gets darker and more time passes.

i remember as a freshman in college i visited home much frequently and painfully missing home despite my happiness at Seton Hall. but i haven't been back since August when i returned for the infamous Speediefest and Balloon Rally, which feels like dog years in Binghamton time. i guess this is because as the present and future take over, the past slips away. you forget what happened at what dances and that fact that weird chemistry class kid even existed. also, when the entire Binghamton AA staff is now playing in the Majors, there isn't a whole lot of reason to go home.

the memories are not what's invaluable, although there are some i am more than happy to hold onto. what i care about most is the familiarity with the people you are visiting--that feeling that you can pick up where you left off even though there has been so much growth and time inbetween visits. it's hard to believe i met some of these people when i was 14 and others in 4th grade. and it feels like nothing has changed, but it also feels like everything has. and of course it has, we've grown up--at least most of us--at least a little bit. but that comfortable side of home is the part that keeps me coming back, even if it's spread out over six months. it's what makes home "home."

yes, when i am home, i am sure there will be an inevitable visit to the Denny's where we spent most of our post-Homecoming dance outings and various after chorus concert celebrations. we will recount memories straight out of Billy Joel's "scenes from an italian restaurant" and think about the days before we could legally discern between red or white wine. but the important part it is that we will continue to make new memories close or far, maybe in the same classy Denny's booth. we will probably have the same waitress anyway.

my mom is big into the planting roots at home, and spreading wings that take you anywhere. apparently my love for metaphors is hereditary. but there is something to be said for that. i always have said that home is wherever my family is, as i'm am most deeply rooted in them. but somewhere between the roots of my home and the branches of my growth is that sturdy tree-ish part. the part that's not going anywhere and supports the growth. that's a huge part of home.

it's amazing how you can always discover something new in a town that usually only takes 20 mins to cover in entirety. but usually you're discovering, or rediscovering part of you.

-k.