Home, Here and There

Whenever I stop myself from trying too hard and whenever I look and see what it is I am searching for, it Is almost certainly the long, wide flat spaces of home, the first.

It is easy enough to reason away life in the mid-hinterlands. How can I ever get the culture or the speed I had in London? Where will I find myself a good gay, like I always did in KC? How will my children ever be able to leave if the start from the nothingness of simplicity that life in Iowa offers? How can I ask my real home, Colin, to give up the possibility of everywhere else on the maybe dream of something old and familiar?

I am certain that I should have left– I would not trade all of my travels and loves for anything. But I am sorry for the rambling life too, and I wish for the longevity that my sister has, the constancy my parents have, the familiarity I know when I return home, to Iowa and fly low from Ohare to Moline over to quilted landscape that I have etched in me.

Home, I am in the air, between you now — Iowa and Colin.

This entry was posted on December 17, 2008 at 2:24 pm and is filed under Colin Phillips, Family, Home, Life in America, Midwest is Best, Old Friends, Outside, The Details, Writing. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.