Monday, February 26, 2007

The Return

In about an hour, the sun will rise, some pigeons may coo at the window, some roosters may crow from a neighboring rooftop, the city will awake, the day will begin, and I will soon be back to work and back to life as I know it. My happy escape for the past 3 weeks has come to an end.

Despite five trips to and fro, reconciling the double life has not gotten any easier. Both lives are easy to slip back into, almost too easy, as though the other does not exist. Lately, when I'm visiting home, it's the only place in the world I want to be, at least at that moment, perhaps because I know my time there is so limited. Too quickly I find myself back to my own little space in the world. Never is there quite the reminder of being alone as walking through my apartment door to the emptiness and silence within after spending several weeks in the constant company of others. I try to reason in my head that the silence should be peaceful and comforting - a welcomed break from the busyness of the past few weeks, however it's anything but. I supposed it can't feel that way, not yet at least. For now, it's awkward and uncomfortable. In silence is the reminder of all I'm not hearing. In solitude is the reminder of those I'm not with. And in my space, I feel that I am close to nothing.

I opened my luggage releasing stuffed contents and the smell of home. The fragrance of the clean laundry is both sweet and sad. In this moment, how I want to go to sleep breathing in that fragrance and wake to discover the trip back was just a dream. I want to awake and find myself somewhere clean and covered in snow.

Instead, I retreat to my favorite window - the place I go to watch storms brew, the days fade, the city sleep, or the dawn break. This time, I slide open the window and face my world with eyes closed. There's no joy in opening them only to face concrete and glass of the manufactured world that now surrounds me. No stars. No moon. No black sky. No white puffs of breath rising in the night. At least there is cold air - my only comfort in all this. With closed eyes and a cold breeze against my face, I can be anywhere I want. I can feel I'm at home.

3 comments:

mendacious said...

rockin post.

it is the most bizarre feeling. i felt the same thing going back and forth from chicago to LA for 3 years... it actually made me panicky- like one was dissolving and the other too present... like i had to force a decision so i didn't have to feel that way anymore...

glad we've got our dreams and the peace that sleep brings, most times. ; )

~sarah said...

sigh

Kara said...

thanks. it's nice having others who can relate. i hate the feeling of home fleeting when i return to taiwan or the sensation that my time there was not even real. it happens in reverse too. while i don't mind forgetting about work and the grind of city life for a while, taiwan can also feel like a dream when i'm in the U.S. neither the States nor Taiwan is wholly me, but they're both such a large part of me that sometimes i'm still trying to balance just who i am and have become in the absense of one of them.