Homesick

Posted Monday, October 16th 2006

NOTE: Originally written & posted December 19th 2002 on Madville.com

It’s morning, and it’s sunny outside. He woke up and put his feet on the cold floor. Yeah, this is the place where he went to bed the previous night, but that’s not his bed. It’s not his room either. He opened the windows and looked outside. He wondered where he is, and how the hell did he get there..

Trying to ignore the melancholy that had possessed him, he tried to pull himself together and continue the day. After the everyday morning routine of watching the news on TV and the quick breakfast, he went outside. Even the wind caused a different sensation when he felt it on his face. The air smelt different, the sky was a different color.

The people looked somewhat weird. Cold, without a grain of fammiliarity in them. As he went down the street, he noticed a funny black puppy, tied to something with a chain of somesort, in front of a nearby store. The puppy seemed like it felt him coming, and it wagged it’s tail happily when he got closer to it and pat it on the head. They looked like they had the same problem.

It’s crowded again. The bus stop is full. He wondered what it would be like on the bus. People here are so restless. Appaling. The first bus came and went. People stuffed themselves in it, and now they’re probably suffocating. He remained in the same spot to wait for the next bus. When it did come, he got on and sat in the back of the bus. During the trip, he was looking at the buildings around him. He’d seen them a hundred times already, but they seem new everytime. New, unknown, weird. Maybe even a little scary.

Then he noticed the people on the bus. They all had some strange glassy glaze in their eyes. They were all going somewhere, without any regard for those around them. Maybe that’s one of the bad sides living in a big city - there’s so many people, yet they’re all so isolated from each other. Funny isnt it? A really big amount of people in such a limited space, yet they’re all so distant from one another.

After about 20 minutes on the bus, he got off on the station close to where he was heading. A new smell again. But he heard the voice of the same man, who sitting on some crummy chair, day by day sold lottery tickets. Or something. The old man sounded like he had swallowed a bullhorn. Nevermind, at least something is constant. The old man is somewhat of a landmark to this bus stop. Without him, it wouldnt be the same.

He stopped in front of the door of the building where he had to go. He wondered what would happen today. Was it worth givving up all he knew so well? Probably, but now everything that he had left behind sounded so good..

He sat in his place and looked at the faces around him. Most of them shared the same history. In their eyes too he could see the fear of the surroundings. From the unknown around them

At that moment he thought of all the stuff he had left behind. He thought of the uselessly wasted nights, of his friends, of his warm bed. He thought of his two cats, the cold beer and the warm snacks he could get with the beer at the local bar. He thought of the sometimes endless arguments, to the insults.. He thought of the freezing winter and uber-hot summer. And he missed all of that. A lot..

A few hours went by.. he walked out the building and realised that he had to get on the bus again. And he hated the bus..

Fast forward about half an hour.. He got off the bus and head home. Home? No. Towards the appartment. When he got there, he took off the jacket, the rucksack and his baseball cap and sat down to eat. He was hungry, but still didnt feel like eating. He felt no wish to eat. And those who know him, know that he really enjoys food.

He turned on his computer. There’s something in the sound of the computer that really calms him down, that reminds him of home. The crackling of the hard dis, the quiet spinning of the coolers. He knows those sounds really well. They’re like home.

After a few hours of meddling with the computer, a feew beers and a few oranges, he looked at the watch. Because he had closed the window shutters in the morning, and didnt open them when he got home, he lost track of time. It was almost midnight. He realised it was time to go to bed. To forget about everything for a few hours.

He sat on the bed, and just sat there for a few minutes. His bare feet were touching the cold floor. Wearing his light-blue pyjamas that freshly washed smelled like home, he lied in bed. He shut his eyes.

He’s home.