58: Disoriented

27 Feb

It’s strange, this shift. One moment I’m in that space where I’m primarily a daughter and a sister. The next moment shifts to a space where I’m a wife and a homemaker. It’s sudden, it’s quick, it’s confusing. I feel it the moment I exit the airport doors and step out into either of the two cities I call home. One where all my memories stand rooted, where my family and friends live, where opportunities to relive them are more easy than difficult. The other is starkly different – it’s just my new life, my husband, and me. No friends I’ve chosen not to make or had the chance of making, no timeless warmth. But it’s my space, it’s my zone of nouveau everything, my reality of living a grown up life. And with that, I stepped into our bed with an ease and familiarity that speaks of oneness, and drifted into a comfortable sleep faster than I imagined.

Change takes time on our bodies, our minds, and on us, in general. But stepping into these two spaces, so alike but immensely different, is confusing. They’re both comforting, familiar, special; and they’re equally distinct in their own characters, memories, and associations. I guess it all actually sinks in when I’m walking the length of the T3 terminal…I’m home, away from home, I tell myself repeatedly.

It fits. It works.

But it takes time, and is disorienting.



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