In Every Place

In every place that I’ve lived, there are good and bad memories. It’s easy to consider the bad ones first, but it feels better to recognize them and accept that you experienced life. On a day you didn’t want to go to school, young and full of life, and the days still dragged but you were okay with it. Homes have feelings attached to them. In the beginning, when you move to a new place —there’s so much hope and excitement. That’s the feeling that we all want to hold on to. As time passes, we think about how much time has passed and whether we are happy or not. It may be troubling to consider, given that with desire comes changes. This can be good if you seek that change with grace. Oftentimes, I find myself conflicted with the fear of change and the burning desire for change to happen. The push and pull is intense but once the change is happening, that means that you’re already on the way there. When we are home, we want to feel comfortable, we thrust forward and we decide. It’s time to move on.

John Locke, wrote this book called Eavesdropping: An Intimate History. He talks about how in the past, people would build communities with a circular structure. This was because back then people actually interacted with their neighbors—whether you liked it or not. Hence the “eavesdropping,” there was a sense that someone was always watching you. When I considered this, I thought back to when I lived in The Bronx and it always felt like there was someone watching me. We lived in these tall, red bricked buildings facing across from a central area where people often shopped. I didn’t particularly like the way that it felt, but that was my home at the time and I had to accept it. Today, when you have the choice to pick your own place—you want to feel normal. You’re in control, you tell yourself. Every place has the potential to be fruitful or just simply not the right place to be. There is a history attached to these places and we never really forget them. Even in the end, when you are moving, the beginning feels almost the same as it did in that moment. Pressures of change, time, energizing the mind to bask fervently into a new world.

Moving feels good because it makes you realize that you’ve also come such a long way. The signaling of promotion and desires being met, swinging high in the breeze and kissing the stars. What a time to feel alive, cleansing all that has graced your closet, wondering why you got those pants or that dress. It feels so good to start anew, to push yourself to experience new life because that’s what God intended. I prefer to hold onto the memories that make me smile, because it’ll be all the better when I can add new ones to the pile. Look! All the good times—let’s take pictures and eavesdrop on each other because we feel good about it and that’s what we want to do. Maybe in this place, you’ll make new friends and new memories and then there won’t be anything bad that shows up in your mind. Okay, wishful thinking but we can dream here! We are in the zone, change rapidly driving, fast on the pedal. We can say well, here we left our mark and that could mean something for us.

In my memory box, I hold all the places and I lock them with a key. Sometimes I take a peek inside, when I’m nostalgic but bitterly digressing into a place of no return. I remind myself that it’s a part of life and now I get to decide for myself—which ones do I wanna keep and others to Hell! This is the dreamlike state, where there is so much opportunity that you want to grasp and reach for all the possible ways to achieve them. Let’s get together and go for a walk! Let’s remember all the good things and the places we’ve been, even the bad ones because somehow those matter, too. I want to be able to talk about whatever is there, ringing in your ears. We will go down to the park and sit on the grass, admiring the pregnant bellies of mothers that are doing yoga. The sun sits nearby, hovering over us like Mother Hen—red, hot, and warm at the same time. The breeze blows just enough to bring you back to the present, the leaves falling near our feet. Before you know it, the sky is singing in cerulean blue and speaks of life that only we can hear.