R&R

this morning i tell my mom i feel like im on vacation and at home all at once. there is an abundance of things i havent had, toilet paper, clean towels, food, sugar and almond milk, warm socks and a fire every night. under the sink in the bathroom are a million shampoos, my favorite condition that ruins my hair but smells like 18, campfire, sex, chocolate, nag champa, everything that makes me shiver and shake. the bathroom with its blue tiles and i just have flashbacks of being young, changing into bathing suits, searching for baby oil to tan with my friends in high school. now the towels in my grandmas bathroom are for using, they dont hang stifly starched but are soft and clean and everything smells fresh and i bury my face in all the terrycloth, its so good to be home. i wake up and my mom comes in to smooth my hair back, she doesnt smell like coffee or a run and the room is not my own but a make shift room made up for me while i stay here, wont you stay longer? they ask. and i just shake my head. this is temporary, this wont last long, but over breakfast of farm fresh eggs brought over the night before by "henrietta" and organic coffee, soy yogurt and essential oils i think to myself, i could let this last a while, let my brain recharge, my system settle down, my body clease.
i take a bike ride around town, down grant street, over the greenwood bridge built in 1904, up the valley, riding as fast as i can and my legs turn red and i breathe out puffs of hot air, up the mountain, get muddy and slide over rocks, my bike tires getting caught, changing in city streets for the palisades. on the way down i stop pedaling, stop breathing, stop being, i turn into the mustard growing wild and neon, the wet gravel driveways, the mossy trees, the few cars that ride down dirt driveways. i become this town again, ageless, timeless, i miss everything and nothing about this place all at once. im ten years old, seventeen years old, im my future self. this town is so beautiful and i think, for the tiniest moment, i could do this everyday. i could live like this.
and i picture us here, a little home, a wood burning stove, the mountains for a backyard, our dogs and children running wild through tall grass and bright yellow flowers, muddy shoes at the door, reading at night and making love in a quiet, quiet world, fresh fruit and garden vegetables, riding bicycles in the summer and sitting on our back porch with grasshoppers at night. i want this with you and only you. there is something fantastic, something spiritual about coming full circle. i want to hold you on cold streets corners here and drive along vineyards with you. there is life to be lived here my love, its birds and animals and the sweetest, cleanest air ive ever felt. this thought is quick though, and i move through it. ill dream about these things, but never live them, not here anyway. that city calls to me, the pulse, the throb, the uneasiness, the variety. where oh where do both of these worlds exist.
back at home gramere and i fix lunch, organic chicken sausage tacos with organic black beans and homemade pupusas, ripe avocado and fresh juice. my shower is perfect, i smell like myself again, i feel, like a better, more simple, more clear version of myself.
we drive up glass mountain road to a huge house turned into a museum where the seventh day adventists began and im turned off by the tour guides preachiness but turned on by the imported stained glass, the tiles from france, the original hardwood floor, the second floor balcony of the writing room. the trees drape low across windows and moss hangs like streamers, everything is lush and green. the only noise is a golden retriever 200 yards away running through the vineyards. the world is right.
the rest of the day is spent by the fire, reading magazines and talking with my grandmother about her childhood, high school prom and how she worked in a chemical warefare plant while my grandpa was at war. everything is slower here and it feels nice to relax, to let my body heal. my brain isnt racing unless i think of you. and when i do, everything throbs, everything moves a little harder under my skin. you are in everything for me, its not just the city, every street corner, every shop, every memory, its not just there. its all over. and so i dont worry about the millions of miles i will travel.
i carry your heart with me, i carry you in my heart.