Out Past Old Saint Louis

September 6th, 2005 by ironsoap

I stayed up a little later, as usual, reading distractedly and trying to find some comfort in a house that, while oddly familiar, is still not “home.” My sleeping issues are typically exacerbated by changes in environment so I lay on the couch and listened to the night. I thought about my brother’s lament that he sometimes finds it hard to connect with people he meets that are his age, wishing abstractly that Nik and I lived closer to where he and Sara were. It’s strange how when we were growing up we were constant playmates, spending endless hours setting up our toys, pretending to be space pirates or whatever, playing sports and getting on each other’s nerves. Yet there was a long period of time where that was just what happened because we were brothers but at least I never sat down and gave much thought to the idea that he might be one of my best friends, too. Despite being similar enough in disposition and personality to have a lot in common it was always an abstract concept that brotherhood is frequently equated with close bonds. As I stared at the ceiling and finally felt the weariness of the week weigh on me, pulling my eyes closed and drifting into that in-between state that isn’t quite sleep and isn’t quite waking, I decided that it was lamentable that we ended up living far away.

My dreams were odd and scattered, and I woke confused as Nikki was up very early, sick with unexpected cramps. I never quite got all the way back to sleep, and with a long day of travel ahead of us, I said my sad farewells to my parents in the parking lot after church. I often grouse that they complain about how little we see them considering they were the ones that all moved away. Somehow I felt this time that there was something else going on. Perhaps it feels again like change is on the way, and things aren’t going to be the same forever. Whatever it is, I think people just do what they feel they have to do, go where they feel led, and hope that somehow the end result is enough caring and supportive people surrounding them to make them feel human and connected. Sometimes you have to give up some things to gain others. It’s not ideal. It’s just… life.

A few hours later I stared again out the window of the plane at the tiny lights below making a patchwork of dots and lines against the black expanse of ground, invisible except for where the orange lights touched it in little pools unable to fully reveal the detail from this distance. I closed my book, now finished, and glanced over at Nik, who tried to nap with semi-success in the uncomfortable seats crammed tightly together for maximum profitability. Somewhere down there is home, I guess.