Here at the kitchen table of the Schrivers, I am struck by how much it feels like home. Nothing about the Schrivers home is remotely reminiscent about my own. The layout is different, the decor is a far cry from the Rorem household, and nothing is very familiar to me. Well, almost nothing is familiar to me. While many of the things contained within this small house are foreign to me, it still is a home--well loved, broken-in, inhabited. This is what makes me feel at home despite my perpetual tourist visa.
Homestays are not new to me. In college during choir tours I would often stay with families and enjoy their hospitality, but those were for one or two nights at a time. With this job, I'm a serial houseguest. Every week I enter into a new home and every week it gets easier to fall into place within the home, almost like I'm supposed to be there. It helps tremendously when you have hosts that hardly flinch upon your arrival, hosts that open their doors like they're welcoming old friends or kids returning home for college. Not to say that they neglect us or welcome us begrudgingly. Hardly! They leave no stone unturned in the effort to make us comfortable.
This week, for instance: We arrived Sunday afternoon and not more than 90 minutes later, I was watching baseball with the family, which continued through two games and part of the Bears/Packers game. Nick (the father) threw in a few frozen pizzas for dinner (something so unspectacular it brought me back to all the impromptu meals of my youth, a delightful feeling) and served up some apple pie ala mode for dessert. Last night I found myself bantering with the kids and watching the family suffer as the Yankees lost (to my secret delight), helping Carson with his math homework along the way. It felt great to just participate in the everyday routine of a family, a routine I haven't been around since I was in high school.
Each week it becomes easier and easier to feel at home. Each week it feels less and less like I'm just here for a few days. On a good week, the reality of the present is greater than the reality of what I've left behind or what lays ahead. And that reality makes me feel at home most of all.
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A chronicle of my time traveling the globe from May 2007 until September 2009.
3 comments:
Darling Jake.
I'm writing because I see no one has been responding, and I want to make sure you know that you are reaching an appreciative audience.
You speak to a mood and a scene better than most published writers I see - keep it up!! (and don't forget to walk around the car at every rest stop, no PulEm's for you)
Aunt Dorothy
what she said.
Jacob,
I hope you are enjoying the scenic views WY has to offer. I love plain-states, middle-America homes. As you so eloquently put it, they are well lived in, well-loved homes. Sam and I are enjoying a season of hotel stays, which have their own charm. But, I miss last year when I felt more like a welcomed part of the family. Hope to see you at the Christmas bash.
Renée :)
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