The Long Drive Home

My father and I stepped out into the brisk, albeit muggy, evening. We were discussing a film we had just seen in a theater in Downtown Raleigh. As we meandered our way back to our car, I took some deep breaths of the heavy air and allowed it to fill every vestibule of my lungs.

After being away from home for two semesters at a university in Idaho, I had finally returned to North Carolina for some much needed respite from a mentally and emotionally weighty past few months. I had hoped the time in my hometown would be somewhat cathartic and that after the two months I planned on spending there, I would feel refreshed and ready to go back and face the future.

Little did I know the catharsis would begin so quickly.

As we walked along the dewy sidewalks of our historic town, my father put his arm around my shoulder. No words were spoken, but a silent appreciation for my presence was completely tangible in his brief embrace. A feeling I had recently been stripped of was reaffirmed. I knew I was loved.

As we entered the car and drove off into the evening, the crescent of the moon was visible behind the hazy evening sky. A glow emanated from it; a halo. A smile crept across my lips as I looked upwards at the stars in between the buildings of metropolitan Raleigh.

As our journey took us further from the urban heart of the city, trees replaced brick as our corridor, guiding us back to the place we knew as home. I closed my eyes, feeling each familiar turn of the road swaying me like a mother does a drowsy child. My sense of sight gone, my other senses were heightened and I could hear the chorus of insect around me; the cacophonous trio of cicadas, crickets and tree frogs, all vying for the attention of the forests. It was a concert in stereo, with performers on all sides as we wound our way further from the lights, the traffic, the world until it was only us and the symphony of God's creation. I could nearly make out the lyrics of their song. I listened closer.

"Welcome Home."


- Mike

Replace Film Titles With Bacon

• A Series of Unfortunate Bacon 
• Jurassic Bacon
• Casabacon
• The Adjustment Bacon
• The Bacon Express
• Where the Wild Bacon Are
• Remember the Bacon
• The Land Before Bacon
• (500) Days of Bacon
• The Blair Bacon Project
• Pulp Bacon
• The Lion, the Witch and the Bacon
• Saving Private Bacon
• Where the Red Bacon Grows
• Bacon in Real Life
• The Good, the Bad and the Bacon
• The Lord of the Bacon
• Indiana Jones and the Temple of Bacon
• There Will Be Bacon
• Pirates of the Carribacon
• No Country for Old Bacon
• Silence of the Bacon
• Crazy, Stupid, Bacon
  

Lime Tree

Lime Tree 


-------------

I keep floating down the river but the ocean never comes
Since the operation I heard you're breathing just for one
Now everything is imaginary, especially what you love
You left another message said it's done,
It's done

When I hear beautiful music it's always from another time
Old friends I never visit, I remember what they're like
Standing on a doorstep full of nervous butterflies
Waiting to be asked to come inside
Just come inside

But I keep going out
I can't sleep next to a stranger when I'm coming down
It's 8 a.m. my heart is beating too loud
Too loud
Don't be so amazing or I'll miss you too much
I felt something that I had never touched

Everything gets smaller now the further that I go
Towards the mouth and the reunion of the Known and the Unknown
Consider yourself lucky if you think of it as home
You can move mountains with your misery if you don't
If you don't

It comes to me in fragments, even those still split in two
Under the leaves of that old Lime Tree I stood examining the fruit
Some were ripe and some were rotten, I felt nauseous with the truth
There will never be a time more opportune

So I just won't be late
The window closes, shock rolls over in a tidal wave
And all the color drains out of the frame
So pleased with a daydream that now living is no good
I took off my shoes and walked into the woods
I felt lost and found with every step I took

(Bright Eyes - From the album Cassadaga, which I've listened to about a dozen times this past week.)