Tuesday, September 4, 2012

I have three homes.

It always surprises me how well I know the places where I've lived. Cabbies be warned--I'm gunning for you. Each place is like coat I slip on and off. Sure, the patterns and designs may change, but each has its own comforting familiarity. Their own long forgotten smells. As though each one is a set of keys unlocking a different set of memories--youth, formative, adulthood. I drive assuredly. Walk assertively. Wander aimlessly and yet always with a niggling sense of direction in the back of my mind. Like a bird flying south for the winter. The branches of the tree might change, but still a tree it be.