Hi again! I am traveling around the US and writing about it, and there seems to be no end in sight.
US Tour Day 40: Homesick
I was exhausted today. Austin parties in a way that I didn't know was humanly possible, and not even weeknights are safe from the widespread fun that seems to rule this town. I guess that's what happens when you get a city of 500,000 people where more than 50,000 are college students—we're talking professional levels of partying.
I spent all day in a cafe called Spider House—writing emails, updating my web site, and dealing with some of the administrative aspects of being a full–time traveler. It was probably the best way to spend my time, although it really wasn't what I wanted to with my day.
I wanted to rest somewhere comfortable and safe and familiar, somewhere where I could be naked—not naked literally, but naked in the figurative sense, vulnerable. I longed for a house with a spare room where I could nap and a living room where I could sit and be warm and drink tea with a friend who really knows me and can sit with me in silence, simply enjoying being in the room and breathing the same air. I wanted someone to share a meal and some conversation with me.
Today marks the fortieth day of my travels. And, it's the first day when I have actually longed for some sort of home, some familiar place to come back to. And, now I don't have any place on this planet that fits that description, save for the familiar seats of my little car or the familiar smell and feel of the pillows that I brought with me from San Francisco—my only artifacts from the home I used to have with Andie.
Andie was really home more than anything. Walls and beds and dishes and knowing how to get to the bathroom in the dark—what meaning do these things have when compared with the safety and restfulness of her love? I could be naked with her—vulnerable and restful and safe.
I know that now I must learn to be truly safe and at home in every moment and in every place in the world. And, most times this comes without effort for me—like breathing. But, today I am so very tired and I would give anything for the warm embrace of someone who loves me or for a moment of safe silence to soothe and water the parching exhaustion that seems to dry the life from me.
Oh, forty days, forty days. And, there is no end in sight. Who knows when I will go home? Who knows where home will be? I guess for now I will continue making improvements on the home in my heart, the home in my mind, the home of my own skin. Then, when I'm feeling bad I won't have to worry about where to go or what I'll wear or if there are enough seats for my friends. There are plenty of seats in my heart, and everyone will be able to come visit me there.
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