i am originally from the south shore of long island, new york. not particularly proud of that, but there it is. i hated it there when i was growing up so bad, in fact, that when i left and my family moved i swore that i would never go back. i don't want to say that i was wrong, but i was not exactly right.
i do go back every once in a while.
i still have family there. uncle, aunt, cousins...big family and when i get to feeling like i need to be a part of the chaos of a big family i go and just hang out or i become a part of the frenitic energy that is a big, loud, happy, family.
i was there yesterday.
i hugged my aunt and uncle, harrassed my boy cousins, talked and laughed with the girl cousins and then last night i dreamt that i was just messed up. everything i did, no matter what it was, it was just fidd-ucked. then somehow i made it back home. i don't mean my hole in the wall in this city. i mean my long island, my town, my street, my house, my room, my bed. my mother and father was there, my brother and sister...my room was clean, dark and warm and all i could do was cry and climb into my bed. i could feel everything just melt from me. everything i have to worry about was gone. i was suddenly 12 again and everything was going to be OK.
i think...no i know the one thing that frightens me most is that i will never make it home.
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