I'm going to pretend that my last update wasn't in August.
I am overjoyed to be back home. That said, Norwich has its own weak gravity.
There are these huge assemblies of crows that I've never seen anywhere else. They will claim all of the trees in a given park and caw to each other like it's the stock exchange or something. They occasionally flock to some unseen destination in one thick band that can pass overhead for halves of hours.
The snow is pretty. I realize it isn't specific to Norwich, but it feels different there. It's sad and bitter and sweet like anise. It muffles sound, so the spaces of an already-small town feel even smaller. There are other things I have to say- about the way the flakes fall so slowly, the way they are backlit in orange rings by streetlights, and they way they mire in eyelashes- but I haven't figured my way through them yet. Have you seen the microscopic studies of snowflakes?
My mom's house was thick with smoke, still, and her boyfriend is of questionable quality. Anti-Obama, believes in ghosts (furthermore, believes that the house is haunted, and professes so in front of my little sister), pretty vulgar, homophobic. Oh, and he READS AT A SIXTH GRADE LEVEL, FOR SERIOUS. I picked my mom up from work one of the nights I was there, and went with her to grab groceries. In the parking lot afterwards, it was quiet, and she just said, "He's putting money down on an engagement ring." Oh. She said she didn't feel very sure of him. "Some days I think to myself, Do I really want to spend the rest of my life with this guy?" That is a pretty solid reason to not marry someone, I think. (I had the same conversation with my dad in 2007, except his dilemma was that his girlfriend had proposed to herself.)
I worry about my sister growing up there.
The day I drove back home, I left mom's pretty late. On top of this, a couple of friends persuaded me to stay an extra night. This lasted until I realized that I had everything in my car, had already said goodbye to my family, had slept until 3:30 pm, and needed to go home. Now. I left somewhere between 9:00 and 10:00, and drove the twelve hours straight through. It's strange to cover 700-some miles in less than a day. The weather changes, and I hit accents somewhere around 3:00 in the morning. It was a relief to hear a drawl; I never thought I'd say.
At some point around 10:00 am, I turned into The Creek, my tomtom said, "You have arrived at your destination," and it was like a small poem. I took all I could carry up the stairs with me and stared at the P on our apartment door for a good thirty seconds. My body still felt like it was moving at interstate speeds. I went inside. Wickett meowed at me and sniffed around my feet before flopping back down in the sunlight of the living room window. Everything smelled clean and distinctly like the home of two and a half non-smokers. I felt like a sailor coming home from months at sea. Our kitty! My art desk! Our library-dining-room! Aw, Nathan cleaned the kitchen! Our bed! ---- ZZzzz.
Our home is wonderful to come home to.
There are these huge assemblies of crows that I've never seen anywhere else. They will claim all of the trees in a given park and caw to each other like it's the stock exchange or something. They occasionally flock to some unseen destination in one thick band that can pass overhead for halves of hours.
The snow is pretty. I realize it isn't specific to Norwich, but it feels different there. It's sad and bitter and sweet like anise. It muffles sound, so the spaces of an already-small town feel even smaller. There are other things I have to say- about the way the flakes fall so slowly, the way they are backlit in orange rings by streetlights, and they way they mire in eyelashes- but I haven't figured my way through them yet. Have you seen the microscopic studies of snowflakes?
My mom's house was thick with smoke, still, and her boyfriend is of questionable quality. Anti-Obama, believes in ghosts (furthermore, believes that the house is haunted, and professes so in front of my little sister), pretty vulgar, homophobic. Oh, and he READS AT A SIXTH GRADE LEVEL, FOR SERIOUS. I picked my mom up from work one of the nights I was there, and went with her to grab groceries. In the parking lot afterwards, it was quiet, and she just said, "He's putting money down on an engagement ring." Oh. She said she didn't feel very sure of him. "Some days I think to myself, Do I really want to spend the rest of my life with this guy?" That is a pretty solid reason to not marry someone, I think. (I had the same conversation with my dad in 2007, except his dilemma was that his girlfriend had proposed to herself.)
I worry about my sister growing up there.
The day I drove back home, I left mom's pretty late. On top of this, a couple of friends persuaded me to stay an extra night. This lasted until I realized that I had everything in my car, had already said goodbye to my family, had slept until 3:30 pm, and needed to go home. Now. I left somewhere between 9:00 and 10:00, and drove the twelve hours straight through. It's strange to cover 700-some miles in less than a day. The weather changes, and I hit accents somewhere around 3:00 in the morning. It was a relief to hear a drawl; I never thought I'd say.
At some point around 10:00 am, I turned into The Creek, my tomtom said, "You have arrived at your destination," and it was like a small poem. I took all I could carry up the stairs with me and stared at the P on our apartment door for a good thirty seconds. My body still felt like it was moving at interstate speeds. I went inside. Wickett meowed at me and sniffed around my feet before flopping back down in the sunlight of the living room window. Everything smelled clean and distinctly like the home of two and a half non-smokers. I felt like a sailor coming home from months at sea. Our kitty! My art desk! Our library-dining-room! Aw, Nathan cleaned the kitchen! Our bed! ---- ZZzzz.
Our home is wonderful to come home to.