A not quite forgotten sentiment
Yesterday, while clearing out a draw in my small house in Oldham, preparing for a move over to California, I found a piece of paper. On it was scribbled thoughts from the day I arrived back at my father’s house after my first Take A Seat journey.
What do they say? The first Cut is the deepest. All the pleasure and pain of that journey is still there, a mental scare I treasure and despise al at the same time…..this is what I wrote:
Its 5am. I’m in Oundle, Peterborough. England. I’m waiting for a taxi to propel me to the CNN studios in Marlborough Street London for an interview about the journey I have just completed.
I’ve finished it…..two and a half years of focus, one goal achieved and instantly vaporizing like the end of a rainbow, leaving me rudderless. I’m in a new world now, a world in which I feel glassy eyed and slightly drugged, like a patient recovering from the effects of anesthetic after surgery. Numbed, a little confused, and only occasionally, when a flush of realization briefly touches down in my head do I understand what has happened. I have finished.
I hear two-no, three ticking clocks. That on its own feels alien. Where are the car horns, raised voices, sounds of food vendors in the street? Items Not Found. System reboot necessary to function with new parameters.
I am struggling with my English. Not because I have forgotten it but because my brain is still clinging on to at least one thing that is normal. Spanish.
I am wearing clothes that belonged to me two and a half years ago. I am disguised as the person I was with only my long hair giving me away. Sights, sounds and particularly smells bring almost forgotten and slightly scrambled memories flooding, disordered into my brain. I feel like a wary tourist, homesick and looking for the familiar comfort of what I left behind.
Time to start my re-integration.