A Road Less Travelled

As usual being in Erie sparked some blog post ideas. Rather than writing one big post about my recent vacation I thought I’d experiment with writing several vignettes. Maybe it will help me be more consistent about writing if I know I don’t necessarily have to write some long and interesting. If short and boring will suffice then maybe I’ll write more often.

I remember a moment when I walked out my back door, looked into the neighbor’s yard and was surprised by what I saw. Not that there was anything shocking about their backyard; it just wasn’t the yard I was expecting. I had become so comfortable walking out that particular back door that it felt like walking out the only other back door I’d ever had. Being on that back porch felt as comfortable and normal as standing on the little back stoop I’ve known all my life so for a moment, just a moment, I forgot where I was. I looked left and expected to see a large, sunny backyard with a pool and maybe a couple of friendly dogs. When I saw a small, shaded back yard with a gazebo and one large, scary looking black dog I felt a feeling akin to vertigo. In that moment the two yards that normally exist 650 miles apart were trying to exist in the same spot. It was that moment of disorientation and vertigo that assured me that Peoria had become home.

I feel that moment sometimes when I’m in Erie. I’ll try to remember how to get to a store and I’ll get myself all lost because I’m imaging a place far away. I looked in the dairy case and saw Meadow Brook instead of Prairie Farms. The press of trees that line the highways. The glimpse of the lake over every hill. Little things that remind me that Erie is not my home anymore. Which frees me up to enjoy it as an outsider, to keep my heart here and to be whole and not split between two homes. It frees me up to enjoy a visit and not long for it to be home.

Okay, so that was rather longer than a true vignette is supposed to be. Oh well, I bet I’ll get better at brevity if I keep trying.