Although I love North Carolina and have been living for the past ten years, the only place I have ever really felt at home is Massachusetts. When I am there, I feel completely happy and at peace. My heart is settled and I think that there is nowhere else in the world that I would rather be.
My favorite time of the year is when I get to visit my home. I have the time of my life there, and it is always a sad day when I must say goodbye to all the things that I am most familiar with. The days that I spend reminiscing, I have only sweet memories to take me back to “yester-year.”* Here is a poem I wrote in 2009.
My heart pounds at the sound of soft rustling
generated by those never-forgotten willow trees.
Even after eight years, I can still see everything clearly:
See the bright sun smiling upon Charles River
golden and spreading everywhere, like hot melting butter.
See the endless V-shape of birds in the sky
passing over the endless row of skyscrapers.
See my beloved elementary school,
the one I had to leave behind eight years ago.
Like a home video playing through my head,
I rewind and rewind again and again.
Footage of Prudential,
and J.P. Licks ice cream store
and Anna’s Taqueria quickly slide by.
There goes my childhood playground,
the one with blue swing sets and yellow slides.
One, two, three slides; four, five, six swings.
The middle swing was always my favorite.
I recall the adrenaline pumping within me
as I had kicked my legs up and down with excitement.
I imagine that familiar rushing feeling
pass through me once again.
I can see this crystal clear.
I open my eyes afresh, closing my imagination.
I sigh and realize that I’m back here.
The pounding of my heart slowly begins to fade.
Even after eight years, I still miss my old home.
And the awakening from my daydream reminds me once again
Of where I want to live when I grow up.
*I got “yester-year” from Parent Trap the movie.