homeward highways, Houston

by iren monkey

i just got back from a week long trip back home.  ever since i left, i hadn’t spent that many days in a row back in the H.  frankly, it was a lot less stress than any of the 6 times that i’ve made it down there.

i think it was due to the fact that i’ve been home 3 times in the last month and a half…i was able to squeeze in a good amount of coffees, lunches, dinners, nights out, and quick hellos whereas there were barely anyone disappointed that i wasn’t able to see them.  i think that should hold me over until July when i come back for my yearly tattoo appointment/therapy session with my trusty artist.

i can hardly believe a year has already gone by since i made the move.  it feels like the year flew by without me realizing it, and until i saw the brand new developments and extended random traffic in my hometown, i still felt like i just left.

i noticed a weird nervous feeling in my chest everytime i went back though…kinda like stage fright? – which is peculiar in its own right since that’s the complete antithesis of what home is supposed to make me feel.

i never feel relaxed or at peace during the hours that lead up to my trip…it’s not excitement either, or any form of manifestation that could mean that i’m just not looking forward to staying under my parents’ roof again, hahajkjk.

but on the real, maybe it’s because that home never really made me feel like it was mine.

i didn’t grow up in that house.  

i grew up in a house in Southdown that now belongs to a man who chopped down our beloved banana tree in the back.  the room i stay in is not even the room i had when i lived in that house during the months in nursing school.  the bed is not my bed…or the décor mine…there isn’t even one solo picture of myself anywhere.  it doesn’t even resemble a space that i could’ve ever chosen at any point in my life.

i touch down and i feel the most comfortable in my car…

driving around the city
as if the highways give me refuge.

time has changed a few things and the city grows with new establishments and businesses…but 610, 59, 45, 288, and 10 will always be the same — i still go 80 miles per hour and get anywhere in like 20 minutes max…as long as i avoid the typical rush hour, of course.

though i claim my old stomping grounds in Montrose, Rice Village, Museum District and Med Center, they never give me the same comforts as always being en route on the interstates.  i suppose it’s understandable given that i’ve never really stayed anywhere longer than 2 years other than my childhood home, so i guess that’s why i never felt like i belonged anywhere forever.

i used to think that my life never felt right no matter where i rooted myself.  like i was always out of place?  but now i think that it’s not just a place that should ever feel inwardly right, moreso the journey itself.  so being on-the-go becomes the norm —

where home really is.

there’s a new radio station called BOOM92 that plays all the songs from now and looking back until elementary school.  it’s quite nice and familiar.  something tells me the CEO has got to be my age or something…also nomadic, and without a stationary home.  it’s a great addition to my travel ambiance.

until 2015, friends!

i’ll see y’all at the pitstops.

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