gold_flamingo (gold_flamingo) wrote,

homes for the heart

Usually when I travel for more than a couple of days, it's to cross something off the big list of places I haven't been yet.  To replace some blank corner of my personal globe with memories and snapshots and anecdotes about some little cafe just off the square...  There's so much world out there, I think to myself, it's a pity not to go see it.  So I venture into the unknown with an ATM card and a tape-flagged guide book and a good supply of socks, and become my tourist self, watchful, quiet, making little notes in the back of my head about how to write it all up later in my journal.

I enjoy that.

But sometimes I forget how much I also enjoy the other kind of travel, to places where I do not need to be a tourist, where I already have favorite restaurants and fond recollections, and of course friends.  So the past week's jaunt down the East Coast was a very pleasant reminder of that more personal kind of journey, which is less a foray into an unimagined future than a careful stitching of the past back into the present, a drawing out of possibilities that were folded away in your pockets all along. 

I'm back in my apartment now, but it's hard to quite feel like I've come home when I haven't gone anywhere that I didn't already belong.

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