I'm having a bit of jamais vu lately; driving to a friend's house the other night on a path I must have driven more than two dozen times I started to feel quite convicted I was on the wrong roads. Everything seemed unfamiliar to me, although I was also certain I hadn't taken a wrong turn. I kept driving the way my head told me was correct while my gut felt certain it was wrong and wound up where I was supposed to be. It's an unsettling sensation to say the least; to be somewhere that you know is familiar but to feel like a stranger--as if you're driving down that road for the first time. While I was a bit unnerved, it also made me appreciate the surroundings. It was around sunset just after a hard rain and the peachy colors of the sky were reflecting off puddles on the ground while mists rose from corn fields--lovely really. I suppose in some ways I shouldn't be too startled by a sense of strange or foreignness since this house I call my home has only sheltered me for a few months now; this trip to my friend's house while familiar is a new familiar, a path-memory relatively newly formed. And since my upbringing was rather nomadic, so my idea of home and the common paths I travel are all temporary and constantly changing. I wonder if I'll ever settle somewhere for more than three years so that in time my idea of home becomes less transient and my tendency to feel (literally) lost will fade...
CONVERSATION