the [mostly stationary] travelogue of a New Yorker in London

Sunday, December 16, 2007

innate optimism

its funny how different forms of communication match the people in your life.

e-mail is my dad's thing. we send short sweet, extremely important e-mails often. they make me smile every time and are unbelievably important. but thats how i experience my dad. short, sweet bits of conversation, each incredibly potent and powerful.

[not few and far between].

with my mom, its the phone. long luxurious phone conversations, where everything is shared and there is never enough time. she and J are the only people in the world that make talking on the phone not only bearable, but fun even. everything is in her inflection, just hearing her voice lets me know how she is, where she is and what she is doing. that is always how i experience my mom, long comfortable conversations

[again, not few and far between]

that could last for hours and cover everything.

its funny. the mediums just work with their personalities.

i think i miss my family.

i was just sitting here, looking out my window, this sunday afternoon. there is a brilliant blue sky framing the picturesque row houses

[with a giant red crane poking up in the distance]

thinking about home. where i am going to live

[if i get my genie-in-a-bottle wish, both NYC and London]

and how i have this innate optimism. and where on earth does that come from...i have just done this thing, this incredibly scary thing. moving to a different country, a different city, alone, no job, no house. and here i am, making it work. i think that comes from the knowledge that i am safe. i have this safety blanket, these catch-alls. i have a ticket home. and then one home again in april, and if anything were to happen to me i could go home at any time.

more than that though, i know i have a home to go to. my parents house will always be the place where i can go, not just to visit, but to live if need be. that feeling allows me to know that i can do anything, go anywhere and succeed at it. because if i don't i have a safe haven where there will be no judgement

[a thorough processing...but no judgement]

no criticism, just open, warm arms and a place to put my head and watch TV.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

This is a first for me...but I was so touched by this journal entry...Hannah, you write so beautifully and I'm so impressed with your expressions. Write on my girl! See you on Christmas! Hugs and kisses.