Over the past week or so, I’ve seen about 500* cars with Oklahoma plates. This of course, reminds me that I am homesick and want very badly to see my mommy and daddy, who are in Michigan right now. Or maybe they are on their way home. I have no idea since I haven’t heard from them since Wednesday morning. My mom’s birthday is this week and then next Sunday is Father’s Day. Guess what they’ll be getting from me? Maybe a card if they’re lucky. I found some really great ones on my lunch break but didn’t have my purse with me, so I stole them.
Anyway, I’ve been thinking a lot about my nostalgia and how my urge to go home serves certain purposes: being spoiled stupid by my parents, getting to spend quality sibling time with the Big Brother (this usually entails at least one trip to Hastings where he tries to convince me that I need to play whatever wicked awesome game he’s been obsessing over lately and I try to make him rent chick flicks), seeing AJ and the wee ones, and paying a visit to the cemetery. Of course a few things get added to this list, if certain things are available: visiting Alee and Chris (Chris, who is more accessable when she isn’t doing things like speaking French and traveling to frigid Alaska, I have seen more frequently than her big sister Alee, who is smart enough to stay hell and gone from Oklahoma — also, she has this thing called a “boyfriend” and he is wonderful, from what I hear, so I’ll forgive him from kidnapping my best friend.), actually having a real face-to-face conversation with Timoth, and raising various amounts of hell at my alma mater, which usually means I go and admire the pretty TW display outside the English department or bum around Jules’ office until he calls security.
The need to escape “home” comes at really odd, unexpected times. Like now, for instance, when going home means humidity and heat and storms, all things I would be just fine without, thank you. Last June, E and I went back to visit and almost died in Dallas because they decided we could take off into the freak lightning storm. It was a good trip, stressful and hard (I cried a lot during that trip), and then two weeks after we got home, my grandma passed away. She was in the hospital when I left and I assumed she would bounce back just like always, so I didn’t say goodbye. And then…well, you know. So I am sad about that because it has been almost a year and so much has happened (and not happened) since then. Life is changing all around me and I’m more than a little freaked out.
Last night I fell asleep really hard for about an hour, then woke up with a start. I had been dreaming about something I don’t remember now, but I remember the feeling. When I woke up, it was like my dream was reality and reality was a dream. It was very disconcerting because half a second before I woke up, I realized I was happy and when I woke up to my reality, I was sad. I love my life. I love my reality. But whatever was happening in the dream made me deliriously happy and being ripped from that depressed the hell out of me.
Knowing me, I was probably dreaming about books.
My point? I want to go home. I miss my mommy. I miss my daddy. I miss my brudder. I even miss Lester. And that is rare.
* Read: about five.