I have forgotten what day it is. That is a good feeling, isn't it? When you are in a place without worry or guilt and the greatest concern is whether or not you remembered to charge your Ipod over night.
Beach day
I have a love addiction to the beach. And to add to that, when I am at home base, home beach, my euphoria reaches astronomical proportions.
So today I woke unable to sleep anymore. I went for a run through the drowsy New England neighborhood where my parents and I have lived for almost half my life. Down through quiet suburban streets lined with Victorian homes, soft green grass front lawns with sprinklers running, soaking the sidewalk and me. The streets where dappled softly with the sun trying to sneak through the thick canopy of leaves from the maple and oak trees. Everything smells like home. I saw fat robins bouncing along and panicking squirrels with somewhere terribly important to go. The coffee shops are exactly the same here as they have been for decades, with the same cars parked out front and no doubt the same customers sitting inside eating their crullers and drinking their bad coffee. Even the ripped up, pothole infested roads are a welcoming reminder of home for me. Sick, I know.
No one is awake yet. The grandfather clock is ticking away beside me, mixing with the chirping of the birds outside and the whirr of the air conditioning unit as it wakes for a few moments and then dozes again. As soon as Kerri and Kathryn stir, we will bustle off to East Matunuck or some other state beach to bronze the day away. I am determined to grab a Dell's frozen lemonade on the way home.
Home. No matter how exciting the adventure or how sought after the change may be...there is no escape from the place you are from. Its soil runs through your veins. The smell of the air is so familiar and so unchanging. You may change or think you have. You may feel unrecognizable to the people you've always know, but home...home remembers you. And somehow, it always calls you back. Like a friend that can not be fooled or distracted by any outward differences. Home always knows you.
I am a Rhode Islander. The waters of Narragansett Bay pump my heart, the sand from East Matunuck is in between my toes and in my car. I have gathered shells and rocks from every beach here and treasure each one of them. Dell's lemonade is summer time to me. I use landmarks to give directions and its never miles when measuring distance, everything is 20 minutes away. The only thing that's changed is the merging 95 down in Providence and I have to carefully read the signs or I'll end up totally turned around because I'm so used to the way its always been. This is my home, for better and often for worse. I love it here for all its faults and beauties. I forgive its accent and terrible driving habits.
It feels so good to be home again.
