home away from home

Home is where you make it

I’ve lived in Omaha for five years. The rest of my life was spent in Pierce County, WA. On days like today, I miss it. I miss the streets and the temperature, the restaurants and the parks. I miss a lot of places I probably wouldn’t visit and a lot of people I probably wouldn’t see any way. It’s nostalgia more than anything. I know that, but it doesn’t stop me from wondering if.

If I’ll ever live there again. If I’d like it if I did. Or if I’d bitch about the traffic and the prices.

Steve reads the paper and tells me the degrees in Seattle: the 70s. I love the 70s. I could live peacefully in the 70s. Then we went for a six mile run in the scalding heat here in Omaha; I am ready to jump the first plane out of here back to my homeland.

I miss my parents and my brothers. I miss playing croquet with my dad in the front yard. I miss playing game after game of marbles with Joel. We’ve been keeping track of our games for the past five years: first one to win 100 gets a DVD. Back then, that was going to be a cool prize. Now it’s not worth the gas it takes to go to the store and pick it up.

I miss real seafood and the Old Spaghetti Factory. I miss the Sumner Arts festival and the Puyallup Fair. I miss seeing the mountain every day. I miss jumping on the trampoline. I miss my mom’s no bake cookies. I miss shopping at Safeway. I miss Darigold ice cream. I miss Nordstrom. I miss traveling down towards Portland to see my extended family.

I’m torn between two places: there and here. There holds my family, here holds my husband. I know home is where you make it. It’s just hard to make it somewhere other than home.

I’ll go back to Manhattan
As if nothing ever happened
If I cross that bridge
It’ll be as if this don’t exist.

But Brooklyn holds you
And holds my heart too
What a fool I was to think
I could live in both worlds.

-“Back to Manhattan” by Norah Jones

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