It's always strange going home. I think it's possibly even stranger that I still call it "home" when I haven't lived there in a year, and won't be going back anytime soon. It's where I come from.
Jen & I stayed about a week at The Commune - our tongue-in-cheek name for my friends Sean & Vicki's place, where at any given time there are 7-8 people meandering around. They are, by far, the MOST hospitable people I've ever met. Sean tried to get us to stay another week.
Technically, I'm from Warren Center, PA - about 30 mins south of Binghamton. Wednesday I drove Jen around the "bustling metropolis" of my podunk hometown, to give her a visual background to the stories she's heard over the past few months. Jen's a city girl; it was refreshing to see someone so giddy about cows, geese, open countryside, rolling hills, silence.
That night, The Commune initiated Jen into the tribe in true tree-guy fashion... by hoisting her 45' into a willow.
We took a day to spend with my kids at the Discovery Center, and the gods only know why I didn't have the presence of mind to take pictures. A 2-year old girl wearing a frog costume and pretending to buy a cartload of ice-cream at the faux grocery? I know, I'm kicking myself too.
Most nights were spent at The Commune, drinking Rolling Rock and playing various card games, curling up on our sleeping bags late at night or early in the morning. I guess that IS home, in a way, as it's how I spent most of 2009 prior to moving to Boston.
Geocaching with Sean and Las...
By the end of the week, we were all exhausted and hovering somewhere between a binge-fueled fog of haziness and the imminent hangover we all dreaded. Sean cursed my name repeatedly. It was glorious.
We were shooting for Virginia upon departure but only made it to Maryland, which is where I'll pick up on my next post.