Home Is Where You Hang Your Head.

So, the subject of this post is a Groucho Marx quote, which first of all is rather apt and second of all is one of the funniest quotes I have learned from a Professor/Mentor/Friend at OU who shall affectionately be known as Doc.

The bottom line is that as I am shortly to embark on a fairly long two week journey back to the states, I have been thinking a lot about home recently. Technically, I feel pretty at home here in Germany. My routine is set, my apartment is as comfortable as any other place I have slept the last couple years, I get around alright with the language for what I need and my work situation is actually great. True, it is hard to say this is truly my home as I am fairly consistently reminded that I am a foreigner. On the other hand, it is a decent life I have for myself here, and I know eventually it could be a place to which I felt I belonged whether or not all Germans agreed with me.

The truth of the matter however is that I also feel like moving back to New York City will be a welcome homecoming. That city brutalized me in ways, but I survived it on my own, made some great friends, learned a lot about myself, did some interesting work and ate some amazing food. There were corners of that city I truly felt were mine, and I miss my little nooks and crannies hidden amongst all that chaos. Being there made me appreciate that I belonged to something much bigger than myself, something overwhelming, totally out of my control and completely alive in every possible way.

Meanwhile, my wife and all of the things I have come to truly define as home are in an apartment in Durham, North Carolina. The creature comforts, including in fact a creature whose excitement always makes coming home delightful, I have come to cherish and in which I find solace are all there. The possessions alone ... my shelves of read books, my grandfather's desk where I wrote my thesis, all the dishes on which I first learned to cook, the pictures from my past, the bed I collapsed into after many of the best and worst days of my life, the couch on which I experienced so many simple moments of comfort and the chair I would work in during the long evenings of graduate school. Many significant moments of my life occurred in and around these things, hence they became a part of my life.

Soon, I will also be back in the Bay Area, the first place I felt like I had built my own home. Though I have not been back since I left nearly two years ago, I feel like I am just returning from a long vacation. I have a hard time convincing myself anything will have changed significantly. In my mind, I know the people and places I love will have experienced changes and that my perception of them will be different now as well. However, a big part of me never left them or that place, so I will cherish the chance to finally embrace my friends and family, breathe in the moist air, taste the food and wine, and walk through the same streets that have marked me so deeply.

Of course, Oklahoma will always beckon me home as my birthplace and the location of most of my family. Not to mention, it is the place I started to believe in myself, learned I had something to give and first found friends who understood me. There, I know I will always have the smell of dinner and anticipation of hours of conversation in my Nana's living room, the feeling of grease and dirt on my hands from working with my father, the memories of stories, beers and meals shared with my oldest friends, or the instant relaxation that comes over me when drifting on a lake. Whether it be during the cold, dry winter nights or the hot, dripping wet summer days, there is something that enriches the soul when you feel the things you felt as a child. The sights, sounds and smells of the houses, people and meals I grew up with will always give me peace.

Southern California also provides a sense of the familiar. It is the kind of place where I never quite feel at ease because it reminds me of something deeply buried within myself. The time I spent there was somehow difficult for me, and though I did not like who I was then, experiencing those old feelings once in a while is a good thing in order to keep track of every part of my life. Even those parts of my life when I experienced pain or felt weak.

I have even felt quite at home drinking coffee in the mountains of Crete with a new found friend, sharing a Christmas with old friends in Sicily, strolling alone along a river in Spain, surrounded by distant family members speaking in a language I do not know, and in a few books that truly pulled me inside them for a brief period. The long story short is that I feel lucky to have so many places to call home. Each one represents a different part of myself. So, it will be extremely nice to actually experience several of them in the next couple weeks.