funkyphantom

This is old

I found it

I posted it to keep pace

PACE PICANTE


So

I was thinking about it, well there wasn't much thought involved, it was something I sort of stumbled on. It started on my 18th birthday, when I was driving with my grandmother, who came to visit me and we ate out to lunch (I'm very close to my grandparents they practically raised me) and I decided to drive to the house of which I have recently moved from where I lived with my father step-mother and two step brothers who all now live in North Carolina. It was strange, it was strange the day I left seeing the house I spent a long time in empty, then now to see it with new inhabitants. Most of us have had that feeling, loss of something we were accustomed to. I don't think love is the word, I haven't really put my finger on it, it's a really phenomenal experience, not just because I moved, but because I'm in the same area. Sure I moved a town over, but the fact that what was once there isn't anymore, and now I feel like a permanent runaway. The feeling came up again when I went with the mother of the family I am now living with (and it may seem like it, but my family didn't move with us on bad terms, they left on a light note which is good) to go feed the cats of her former neighbor. This family had for a short time been torn apart by certain actions, the parents took time off and separated for a brief time. Now this really is a second family for me, they were the ones I whined to when my dad and I fought, and to see them separate, was almost like my actual family separating. There was an air of mystery to why this split occurred, it was of course later explained to me, and it was definitely an interesting thing to hear about. The mother moved to a different part of the town I now have triumphantly returned to into a nice 3 bedroom apartment where I spent a lot of nights up late with the two brothers and their neighbors watching movies, playing video games, and insulting each other. I had a lot of fun there, I had fun whenever I was the Father's house too, but it was different, the vibe there was a lot emptier. The mother of this family is very dynamic, so she brought a lot of what you could call color, into the house, but I digress. The place that had become a third home (the original home they shared being the second for those of you following) was now gone too, they had since gotten back together and were doing well. To see a family cut apart and then reform is an amazing thing, now some people will say they've seen it, but I was almost a part of it, a constant fly on the wall, and a person either party vented to occasionally. Since the reforming there has been scar tissue, in the form of their youngest kid, a ninth grader who is whole lot of, well, a lot of things, good and bad. The bizarre feeling of something that you counted on in a lot of ways no longer being available, is humbling. Some people lust to return to what was had, but for some reason I've never really felt like that. There's even a sense of accomplishment that comes from it, the fact that you have grown and things have changed, the colors and shapes of your former surrounding to return and return as not yours, is like staring at yourself, and it is almost a recap of where you have been. I hear a lot of this "its not where you are its where you're from" stuff, but I have to really disagree. Its who I am because of where I have been, I really don't have a home, I've had homes, but I don't think I have ever had A home in the sense of land or a roof over my head. My home is wherever my family is at, whenever someone I love exists, and whoever I fell like being with. Home follows you, it doesn't stop moving, even if you do.