Home, never ho-hum

It is a curious and a heady mix of severe excitement and mild apprehension when it comes to going home. The feeling starts to gain traction when the fairly large sized airplane luggage bags come out of the store room. They open up their clams to vast amounts of space. It slowly dawns upon you that these bags are now experienced in carrying tangible objects and bringing back immeasurable memories.

One bag, I find is filled with voluminous gifts for my nephew. In mass they don’t mean much, but I am hoping for a five year old, an action figure of Optimus Prime would feel gigantic. There are other smaller items for bigger folks. I am over the moon that this time my mom actually asked for something!

A few hours lie between me and an Airbus. Perhaps a storm in Europe would make travel lengthier but I have a feeling that I might just make it over always ambiguous Amsterdam. Besides, the journey is painfully long to begin with. I have books, music and in-flight movies to keep me company.

But mostly, my thoughts are quite likely to keep me occupied. I can imagine home clearly. I can smell the streets. I can feel the dirt on my forearms. I can feel my eyes twitch. All this is notoriously vivid. What is vague is the memory of me. Of me being in my own house! I can’t remember how I felt when I was home. I know it was all good but was it any better?

There is always food and there are always friends that I am eager to meet. There are roads on which I wish to travel. There are circular dirt tracks on which I wish to run. And a wine yard on which I wish to wine. Like always, every trip brings along a checklist. And like most trips, I am sure I shall be able to check most of them.

I find it a vaguely romantic notion that I am ending this year at home. While there will be ample time to reflect back on 2010, I am looking forward to doing so in brighter climates.

The abundance of sunlight will perhaps cast a glow or a shadow; it is yet to be decided. But what cannot be denied is that 8000 miles east lies a land I continuously call home, when I am already at home in Michigan. It is this dual existence of domains, despite the singularity of my citizenship as per my passport, which will continue to fascinate and ruin me.

On this fascination, I will soon cross an ocean and a sea only to return, not wiser, but a year older.

And without a doubt, a few pounds heavier.