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.
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.