Finding Home (Raquel)
Today I went to feed Jonathan’s cats so that Gabrielle wouldn’t have to, because her life (IMHO) is crazy enough as it is. Even though I get lost quite frequently I was fairly confident in my ability to find their house, considering it is the house I used to live in. It felt odd to drive into Marquette Heights. It’s still the one place where I am completely confident of my ability to get where I’m trying to go. I know those roads in a way I don’t know the roads in Peoria. But I wasn’t driving home on those roads this time, and I felt it. I pulled the van into the spot of the driveway where I always parked it, and walked in the front door. I hadn’t seen the house since we moved out, so I was curious. How different would it look? I walked in and it was different. I was greeted by a couple of cats, for one thing. Between different furniture and different colors I could barely recognize the house I’d lived in. This didn’t bother me, of course. I’m far more sensible than that. Yeah, right. Actually, it’s true that it didn’t bother me, but it did make me a little sad. I had good memories attached that house, and they’re not attached anymore. Jonathan and Carrie’s house bears no relation to the house where Gabrielle and I stayed up late packing kitchen utensils, or the house where Gabrielle broke our broom (twice). It’s a little silly, but I guess I’m afraid I might lose all those good memories now that there’s nothing to remind me of them. I drove home tired and a little distracted. I’ll use that as my excuse for missing the exit that I knew I needed to take. I kept going until I recognized a street name on an exit and knew I could get home from there. Then I turned the wrong way on that street, realizing it seconds too late. In the process of turning around I found another road I recognized, only then I was in the wrong lane… But I got home. I made it the whole way home on my knowledge of Peoria streets. James pointed out that I went way out of my way, but I did it. When I turned onto the last street before home, I felt just a touch of what I’d felt driving through Marquette Heights–the certainty that no matter what, I could get where I needed to go from here, and the familiarity of having driven this stretch dozens of time before. I had to smile when I saw a car parked on each side of our driveway, and a car across the street. It made it hard to pull in–but it always did, and I’d seen it before, and I knew I could handle it. And I did.