coming home (a letter)

April 2015

It smells like spring, and I haven’t smelled it in so long. Fresh earth, mowed grass, the smell that makes you remember your dreams. I spent a week at my parents, where my soul finally found much needed rest. It’s a small farm town so it feels like you belong, no matter who you are. Everyone smiles. Everyone is glad to see you. I slept in, laid in my room that I decorated with heaps of stars when I was younger. And just laid there. I drank tea on the front porch every morning, as I watched all the farm trucks and old red tractors drive by. I’ve read three books. I talked to my mom about life. The sky a vivid blue, with bouncy perfect spring clouds, the robins fat, the dandelions fluffy and the cows healthy and even they seem to be happy. I went to a small town church with my niece and nephews. I felt awkward at first, but found comfort at the coffee pot and the music. I found peace in prayer there. I prayed for you. I don’t know why.

I spent Easter listening to my family laugh. We ate, argued and laughed some more all in a chaotic swirl. I played with my nieces and nephews for days. Then one day we laid in the grass, and they asked me ‘growing up’ questions. And I just listened. And it was amazing to hear them trying to figure out this big crazy life. They asked me things I had long forgotten about. Things that were once so mysterious to us.

My dad came to visit me, which I haven’t seen him in almost two years. We stayed up drinking beer and playing Texas Hold Em with my sister, and laughing at my dad’s stories as he tried to bluff me out of my money. I was one card away from a royal flush against my dad. A king of spades, it landed down a king of diamonds. Won with the straight, and never in my life have I ever been close to a royal flush.

I’m back in the city and back on the pale oak ballet floor. It smells of rich coffee in the city, it almost smells like chocolate at times. The ballet building is full of dancers rushing about at all times, manically trying to fit in more classes as their parents drop them off in expensive cars and suvs. The company dancers stare at me a lot. I don’t know why but they do. Maybe it’s my tattoos. Or how I stare at them in with utter wonder. It’s as if they are always paranoid someone is going to knock them out of their spot. They have no idea I’m going to the beginning classes.

I’ve spent time with my old friends, and listened to how their lives have change since I left. I just miss their voices, I haven’t heard them in so long. Everyday has been a new adventure. I’m unsure of what I will do, but I’m waiting until my heart feels a clear answer. For once.

I feel free. I am happy.

I remember you in delicate flashes.