if there were an antonym of homesickness, I’d write it here

If feels wonderful to be back in the U.S., but it’s getting old being in Indiana. If I didn’t have family here, I would make a point of ignoring Indiana and all the states surrounding it forever and ever, Amen.

I have never been a Midwestern girl. I’m tired of seeing old high school non-friends in Target and feigning interest in their depressing lives. I’m tired of seeing so much white-trash camouflage and jacked up trucks. I’m tired of being asked what church I go to. And I’m tired, as I was in high school, of the Dutch Reformed reigning as the only Protestant domination considered real Christianity by the non-thinking, ultra-conservative Dutch living here. I’m sick of so many blue eyes, but I do like the height.

My home accent has become grating and silly-sounding to my ears after 10 years away, yet I hear myself slipping back into it just for the fuck of it. This two-month interim between teaching jobs is a blessing and a curse, enough time to enjoy family and friends and ensure that I will not want to be here for another nine. On Christmas, the grandpa I see once every few years asked not how I was, but where my man was. When I said I didn’t want one, he told me that he’d have to take me into the next room for a long talk. I wasn’t sure on what level to be offended, but I gather he’s aghast that I wouldn’t have a man to play submissive wife to by the ripe old age of 27. What else would a woman be doing?

As grateful as I am for my parents and their generosity in letting me stay in their house for two months, I’m feeling their slight contempt at my existing here. The other day, my mom and I had this conversation as I loaded dishes.

“The dishwasher is running so much more now that you’re here.”

“Well, I am one more person eating off of dishes.”

“Several times a day.”

Would she rather I not?

Tonight is New Year’s Eve, my favorite holiday, and the best I could come up with is to hang out with a friend at a bar, which I’ll take. I don’t like to drive in snowstorms after drinking, both of which will be occurring tonight, but I’ve been told I’m “not allowed” to sleep at my friend’s house per her mother, so I will be taking that risk. I’m assuming my banishment is the cause of me typing “wtf” on her daughter’s Facebook wall three years ago (really). Old, meddlesome motherfuckers, get off Facebook and out of your grown children’s shit. Damn it.

I’m tired of living my life in my car. I make all private phone calls (so, all phone calls) and listen to all that music with those nasty curse words I want to in there. I am 16 again. I drive just to get out. My house is so quiet it hurts, and the smallest of secrets is a burden to bury. I would love to let go tonight, shrug off worries, make out with strangers, roll around in glitter, and reminisce about another year of life, which is what New Year’s is all about. But I have a feeling it might have to wait til 2015. Or at least until my first night in Rio.

 

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Author: monix7

I am a traveler, reader, creator, editor, translator, learner, scholarship-earner, bonfire-burner, mess-maker, climber, faller, beautifier, and many other things, good and bad.

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