Half Sweet n' Half Nuts

Home is where the heart is...

There's something positively lascivious about the word 'lascivious'. It makes you feel just a little sinful and just a little giggly. Like the thought of warm molten chocolate. Or maybe, a little bit like a pre-teen, reading an adult romance novel under torchlight, being caught by a frowning disapproving nun. Of course you might be curious about my sudden fascination with the word so I'm going to let it go and carry on with the rest of my post.

I flew into Seattle last Sunday, my fourth trip in eight months. A whiff of the cold wet mountain air outside the airport made me smile, as always. There's something about the Seattle air that I feel straight in my bones. A magical something that makes me wish I could give up my wanderlust and never leave that beautiful city. I never could understand my bond with the city that was a home to me for less than a year, so I simply never question it. I'm just happy I get to visit that city as often as I do, even if I don't live there any more.

It was just another weekend spent with one of my closest friends. Of course, in true Seattle spirit, it rained all the time I was there and I loved every minute of it. Add to that, it was also the first time I was driving around by myself and the freedom was both new and wholly enjoyable. I even remarked on how I felt more at home there than in LA and I had lived in LA much longer.

And just as always, I boarded my flight back with a twinge of regret that I always feel at leaving Seattle. I often wonder what life would have been like if I had got that Microsoft job. What if I had become one of the thousands of migrant Indians holding (arguably) the most prestigious job in this line of work. I know I would have hated it, just as I hated every minute of being on the legendary Microsoft campus during my interview. I have often told myself that it was more of a blessing disguise; I'm definitely not cut out for that life. Of course, it may be considered a case of sour grapes by most, but the honest truth is that I'm not competitive or ambitious yet I'm very sensitive to failure. I know that fighting my way up that pyramid would have sapped the living life force out of me.

But I digress. The fact is that I'm fairly happy with my life as it is in LA. No amount of wondering about the "what-ifs" has tempted me to look for something more just yet. Yet there is this conscious reluctance to give in to this contentment and let myself belong to LA. I know this city quite well; I know my way around and my place in the city. I have a good job and a few friends here. I went to school here. I live in a lovely little apartment which is all mine. Then why do I feel like I still do not belong in LA?

I was still contemplating these facts of my life when we landed and I made my way out to the now familiar terminal to take a shuttle to the parking lot. I knew, even before stepping out, that the sun would be harsh and I had my sun glasses ready. I was prepared for the heat, the smog and the crowds outside that door. I got out, found my shuttle and sat back to look out of the window. As we drove away from the airport I saw the road in front of me, wide and brightly sunlit, lined with palm trees on both sides.

And then I heard a voice in my head that, like an unanticipated left hook, blew my lights out. It was a little voice, peaceful and content, which said,

"Sigh! It's good to be home, at last!"