Coming home.February 22nd, 2006

When I had moved and I was settling in Kiel, things had to be done in a rush, in a clear comprehensible way. This all happened so fast I thought it would never come to an end. But it did, fortunately. There was nothing really big more to do, nothing worth rushing for, so it was time for settling in real. But I was restless. This new city, grey and frozen by minus degrees, with no release from the awkward feeling of being wrong or displaced wouldn’t let go of me. I was heaping up a bunch of wallpapers with summer motives in my computer’s desktop folders, walking through the city shopping arcade watching out for colourful decoration I could lighten up my rooms with. I started changing radio channels when soul-destroying songs were playing, and finally I caught myself browsing through the travelling section at the library – at “Canary Islands”-corner. But it was when I passed by the front shelves before the lending counter that I was reminded in something that had always brought positive thoughts to me and also had been able to distract me from everyday life’s sorrows: reading novels. So I lended two, the new one from Nicholas Sparks who is always a pleasure to read, and Ildiko von Kürthy, whose books are a short time distraction at its best due to the stories about women with the same problems as yours, presented with a fistful of humour and sarcasm.

This day, I couldn’t get home fast enough. The weather was depressing, as always, but I lit a candle, turned on my Asian rice paper lamp from Ikea and sank into my pillows to dive in into the world of novels. But the silence around me wouldn’t let me read on. So I rose again and searched my CD shelf for something fitting here. I got hold of the new album from David Gray. It had remained unlistened since Octobre or so, where I had decided it to be not my type after listening to it once. I hadn’t know then that this album was dedicated to a special moment. This special moment was now. I pressed ‘play’ and ‘repeat’ and returned to my casual reading place in bed. From then on, I lost trail of time. The words on the pages were enchanting me inside, and the sound from David found its’ way into my head. An afternoon later I closed the book, feeling satisfied and relieved. And with the realization that this CD was supposed to remain unlistened – until now. It had accompanied this special afternoon of relaxing, the first since my arrival. The feeling of imperfection and restlessness had faded during the hours. I sat still, listened to the calming melodies and the thoughtful lyrics a second time, now with full attention.
And then I knew. I knew I had come home. Especially the song “From here you can almost see the sea” made me realize the closeness to everything I had ever wished for. Since my arrival I hadn’t found the time to think about anything, and now that I was sitting here, feeling so relaxed and carefree, it came to me that I wouldn’t have to be afraid anymore. From now on no faraway destination wallpapers would be needed, no change of radio channels, and no escapes. Maybe some time I would feel this way again, but deep inside I would know that it was all good, that I had settled.
So everytime I’m feeling lost at heart and mind, I will re-read this entry to remind myself that it’s all good. No more worries – the monsters of uncertainty are all gone.

imagepostFebruary 22nd, 2006 imagetime02:38

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