Friday, August 27, 2010

Going to Homes Coming to Home

After I visited my friend Helen in New Orleans earlier this year, I wrote something somewhere about home and Home and coming to your home and going to others' homes. I thought of it again after I visited my friend Anna's hometown in Iowa, but I can't for the life of me find where I wrote it, or remember most of what it said, but this one line is ringing in my brain.

This is why we have to visit each other.

In an attempt to carry on with that...We need to be in each others' homes, to see the worlds in which we live in order to come closer to understanding this person. To see them water their plants and take out the trash, and walk down the street while neighbors greet them. To meet their friends and participate in their social lives. To eat their favorite foods and walk around their favorite tree. To have them point out the spot where they played their first gig, or had a really lovely date. To look closely at how they decorate their home, to see what they like to look at on an every day basis. What matters most to them. What is important to them. We need to go. Be in the person's home to truly see them. To see how they live and what they love, and to love them, love the experience of it all.

I feel this so strongly in Atlanta when I visit my sister. Yes, this is different from when we're in Chicago. This is her life, and I'm looking at it, loving it, being a part of it. Needing to be there more often. And then the other reminders: Go to Austin. Go to New York. Go to San Francisco. Go to Portland. Go to France. Go everywhere. Invent teleportation. Know the people I love. Learn about their lives.

I returned home tonight to wonderful food at my favorite Thai/Vietnamese restaurant and lovely catching up and conversation with my girl Genia, the regular routine. But then, Cycropia at the breathtaking Orton Park with old, giant trees lit up in blue, giant white orbs of light hanging from their crawling branches, and people in costume dancing and swinging on trapezes. Their grace. The quiet awe of the audience. People ducking out of the way so others could see. Strangers smiling. Walking everywhere all night and not driving at all. Running into friends on the street. Walking to the lake and seeing the moon reflect on the water, one single bright star below it and millions more shining clearly in the sky. That's my home. I'm home. I wish you all could see it.

5 comments:

Sara Ashes said...

this is so lovely! thank you for writing it. xoxo

Reem Tara said...

Thanks, Sissy, and thanks for being you! And for letting my ass visit you for so long! xoxo

SophisticatedBrew said...

What?! How did I not see this entry until now? Clearly I'm not internet-stalking you enough.

This is VERY lovely and very well-written. And, you know, proof that I should get my ass to madison.

miriam said...

Awesome. Did you see the street, the one you always think of, in Atlanta?

Reem Tara said...

Miriam, I did! Thanks for remembering. =)