i carry a home inside of me. it may not be very large. or filled with ornate furnishings. or play classical music over the sound system. but it is filled with vampire weekend’s “contra”, the soundtrack to all of my travels both permanent and temporary.
each off beat rumble of the drum of that album reminds me of chicago, of late night gallivanting around lincoln park and inside beautiful libraries. of san francisco and being ambushed by bernese mountain dogs at crissy fields. each obscure little reference in the songs brought me back to boston and being so invigorated by the academia and the fiery leaves and the young boys carrying their cellos and large bass cases up and down boylston street.
and even orlando, though i hate to admit it, was a home for such a long time. the reggaeton streaming in the background. and humid, swampy air that greeted me every time i headed home. fanny pack-clad tourists that i both mocked and secretly felt that if they didn’t exist, the world would be thrown off its axis, they were necessary in a sense. though i could do without seeing the sunburnt, distended bellies of some of the male variety.
each of these places have never felt like home organically or instantly. but they did, because i carry that home inside me. whether it was a week, ten days, or my whole life as of a month ago, like my seven year old self ,with a glass mason jar full of lightning bugs, i carry that sort of light and familiarity around wherever i go. oh yes, my home is filled with lightning bugs. more than you could even imagine. lightning bugs and lyrics and drum beats and light.
“i see you shine in your way. go on, go on, go on.”