Juggling Here and There

Home on day two is always tricky. I am are waiting for street lights to change when the roads aren’t even paved. Traffic is on foot, a gang of overwhelmed artists not sure what to paint next. I step around them and move on. I am listening for a 7am wakeup call when the entire house doesn’t have a clock, alarm, wall, or otherwise (we recommend something). I am thinking the tapwater smells a little funny while the outdoor air smells wonderful. I can’t stop leaning out the kitchen window and inhaling. I am thinking I am missing something and then it dawns on me- I haven’t plugged into the internet, a cell phone or a television set in over 24 hours. Suddenly, there is small panic. I’ll miss The Closer! Who am I missing on myspace? How many emails are piling up on gmail? Yahoo!? Outlook? First Class? What about the blog(s)? Librarything? PostSecret?
Being home is a balance, a juggling act between here and there. I want to be here, but the residue of there is still sticky to the touch, nagging at the brain. It’s not easy to let the Dunkin’ Donuts coffee cup go. The commute to work is still the autopilot I think of.
It’s day two and I start to compromise. Half shave the legs, half comb the hair. Wear half clean clothes. Half think about that life over there and half concentrate on settling in. Crack open the book.
Day two and we hike the backside cliffs, finding mysteries along the way. Who built this thing and why? How long did it take? I can’t let the mystery be for there is a whole army of them, all juggling rocks and drift wood. All juggling here and there. Just like me.