#yay hi peach riot

[lavenderinmoonlight]

Episode 2: My guy loves pie, respect...

Yayyyyyy, I get to meet the kid!!!!

He's👏🏾such👏🏾a👏🏾geek👏🏾

Ok we were on the same train of thought with the peach cobbler ngl-

Wait he has a prosthetic! Interestinggggggggggggg

What's going on. Who's here-

STOP ASKING QUESTIONS AND GET DOWN YOU IDIOT-

Well, this is how we lose our chances with him...

*two hours later* I was helping make soup where was I-

Jeez- Ok I'm cooler than I thought- JEEZ-

WE ARE SO TRAUMATIZING THIS MAN-

Gosh darn itttttttttttttttttttt... can Rose get me out?

Oh I'm screwed, huh. Ooh but Williams sounds kinda fine...

Wait... dang it, am I gonna have to relocate? Ugh I need to talk to Ivan...

Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii Ivan... YAY HE HUGGED US- WOO-

Yeah hun there's a lot that you should know- nooooooooooo I was not a desk clerk......... mmmmmmmmmm no I don't think I'll be safe- aw- PLEASE SAY I GET TO MARRY IVAN-

OH MY GOSH THE KID'S HERE- yep there goes my heart.

Oh this is gonna be awkward... hi ma'am...

DANG IT I LIKE IVAN THO- yes it's probably a good idea so he's safe but AUGH

No no I completely get it ma'am, honest, it's really bad-

Raven: *deadpan face*

Me irl: *furiously nodding, agreeing with everything Michelle is saying*

HOLD UP, WE ARE NOT FANTASIZING RIGHT- OR IS IT A DREAM- it's a dream YEP IT'S A DREAM- oh the TRAUMA in this series

Ok we're leaving, this is gonna suck but it's for the best.

Ivan please don't make this harder- dammit- PLEASE IVAN I LIKE YOU TOO MAN COME ON-

K we're gonna meet back up again or I will riot.

No I'm not okayyyyyyyyy... in more ways than one, I messed up my project.

FRICK YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH WE'RE STAYING WOOOOOOOOOOOO

OPEN UP IVAN- YES IT WAS FOR YOU

*screeching internally, kicking feet, throwing squishmallow against the wall* YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Episode 3:

These doggone pagers man...

Hey, ngl, it'd be funny if Harrison tried to take us out.

Maybeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee- why'd you say it in that tone tho-

GREAT NEWS I'VE FIXED THE PROJECT- aagh I love him so much-

What does Luke want... he sounds nervous?... oh great what happened.

NAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH BRO, ANYTIME THEY WANNA MEET SOMEONE IN PERSON IT'S BAD COME ON. WHAT NOW.

I take back my earlier statement, this man is NOT red flag-simping material.

We are NOT bringing Ivan. WE ARE NOT BRINGING IVAN.

RAVEN, GIRL, I KNOW I'M TECHNICALLY YOU, BUT I DO NOT AGREE WITH THIS.

Can we please listen to Ivan- I don't like this situation- this frick is gonna double-cross us-

(I feel like Michelle had the better lawyer in the divorce lol-)

There's that freaking crow again. YEP. HERE WE GOOOOOOOOOO.

Too bad we don't have regenerative powers like a certain someone hahahahaaaaaaa *piercing sobs*

FIGHTTTTTTT

DANGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG NOT THE HELMET-

OMGGGGGGGGGGG. OH THIS IS BRUTAL.

Ivan don't scare me like that again.

I KNEW IT, I KNEW IT, I KNEW HE WAS A SLEAZEBALL-

HI CROW, I TRIED TO TELL HER- STOP PLAYING OUR SONG.

Wench, I know you did not threaten Paloma-

GET HIM IVAN- YES BAEEEEEEEEEEE AAAAAAAAAAAAAA

K now we just gotta fix the bleeding out problem over here... no. ESCAPED NO. TELL ME SHE'S GONNA MAKE IT.

I SWEAR IF SHE DOESN'T MAKE IT-

TELL ME SHE'S GONNA MAKE IT-

OH THANK GODDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD THANK YOU BABY JESUS AUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

Listen, I was about to cry and I would've had to throw hands. HI IVANNNNNNNNNNNN

*pounds fist against table* We must protecc the child she is too precious-

Awwwwwwww ok happy tears happy tears this time yayyyyyyyyyyyy

THAT ENDING WAS SO GOOD OMGGGGGGGGGGG OK I LOVED THIS ONE TOO, THE NEON SERIES WAS GREAT

*sits down with lunch* "It has been a long time since you have seen me, has it not?" *angrily muttering into bowl*

Episode 1:

Yeah, yeah, it's about me...

Oh frick, am I in therapy- I'M IN THERAPY WOO

K question, will I be taking care of Baby Vengeance in here?

Yeah that checks out, I'd probably feel better about this if I'd died in his stead.

What kinda dream is this???

"Strangers to lovers", who the heck is the stranger gonna be... this is gonna be tough.

CROW OR RAVEN CAWING????

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO THEY'RE PLAYING OUR SONG-

no i'm not gonna cry i refuse to cry over this.

Ok wait wait I don't wanna space out while I'm driving, WAKE UP- oh damn ok I'm sorry ma'am, just my traumatic flashback speaking-

Aaaaaaaand there's our stranger... AH KITTY BUBBA!!!

Oh he's a father... and a nerd, let's go- OH HE'S A SINGLE DAD, GREAT-

Omg he's such a nerd aughhhhhhhhhhh 🙌🏾

Oh there goes my heart, here we freaking go.

"I hope it wasn't awkward standing there while I was talking on the phone-"

me: *actually wheezes*

my brother: "what's so funny-"

"NOTHING-"

I don't like how cute I'm finding him. This is not good.

HELPPPPPPPPPPPP HE'S REALLY CUTE AND I DON'T LIKE IT.

Aw man, put the telenovela back on!

I did not make a pie for this man... oh my God I am so dead. Oh I'm gonna be wrecked.

*pauses the video* *walks away from laptop* "WHY AM I SMILING SO HARD OVER THIS GUY NO-"

And there's the crow... frick this is what our dream is about huh

OMG IT IS, THIS IS WHAT THE DREAM IS ABOUT- OH FRICK.

Ok so this crow dropped Ivan's birdfeeder into our backyard, therefore it's the spirit of Crow trying to hook us up with someone- I KNEW IT HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

(yeah I know this stuff is probably obvious to everyone, biochem wrecked my brain process ok)

YEAH HE'S REALLY CUTE, CROW, HELP ME-

Oop- no no, finish that statement sir >:3

NOT THE SOUNDTRACK HERE WE GOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Please let this be a movie someday, I have so many favorite series that I need to be a movie/TV series...

[crackcrocs]

DEATH WILL ONLY BE THE BEGINNING #3

3. Transformation Central

the entities of my personalities would like to come together in one voice that speaks through me, we or I call this collection of words from the mustiest corners of my brain to this note page to voice something that might come close to what I feel underneath the skin I wear. In all my unorganised words- I might even go as far as to call this a poem, titled:

‘TRANSFORMATION CENTRAL’

sub characters in my head would appreciate if this could be visualised & understood through as deep a lens as humanly possible. even I confuse myself so if you can decode or relate to any of this, wonderful. If not, I’m locked in my own mind, swallowed the keys to my soul.

SIMILARITIES & INTERCONNECTEDNESS BETWEEN HUMAN & PLANT CONSCIOUSNESS EXIST! if you look closely at my nose freckles you’ll see the resemblance of the constellations above. if you look at the human veins & the layout of a tree, this is further proof.

{VISUALS THROUGH A SEPIA WINDOW STARING @ THE AUTUMN LEAFS; IMAGINING THE SEEDS UNDERNEATH, THROUGH NUMB ROOT VESSELS THAT PERMEATE THROUGH EVERY MEMBRANE OF MY EXTERNAL TO INTERNAL ENVIRONMENT}

~FEATURING THE VICIOUS CYCLE OF DEPRESSION & PERFECTIONISM.

here goes:

What is this part of my mind ?

If you want; delve inside-

I may look sweet like Alice,

but underneath it all

I deteste looking in the mirror

-cos I see the mad hatter.

my inner child needs a platter-

full of care not distortion & abuse pls.

less fibbin would’ve been a breeze.

now following the dead fish in the stream!

HOW on EARTH do I fit with the cod & the Haddock?

I’m the rainbow fish- beat & battered.

dim my own light cos I’m too afraid to shine.

alone.

thieves tried to steal my shiny scales.

I sat and watched them grow.

In the sea realm they were mean gargantuan selfish whales, with poisonous shark fangs & alligator tails. scorpion hands. (gremlins)

and still they make me feel like the alien-

I cant take it.

Make it make sense ?

I can’t.

controller in my hand-

Off balance stance.  

anxiously I move round like a wobbly jelly.

where’s the button to balance my chi & shut out the ego ?

the teLLIE telling lies to our vision!

change the channel aura terracotta orange- daily dosage of vitamin D & C.

catch me sun gazing by the sea

head buzzin like a bee.

speaking from a dusty box

stuck on top of a forbidden shelf

cos I dunno how else.

I’m tryna delve deep but forgot how to dive

How can i visualise? scenery foggy-

the establishment man with the glue gun got me xD

inner monk burning but at peace

Cos I refuse to believe

If the only way is the American dream

Interconnected; like the frog in science -let’s dissect it!

down to every floating atom spirit neighbouring your door

subcategories & divisions, it’s more!

than the rich and the poor -prism that’s been built

do we all feel like a performance monkey on stilts?

will my data be extracted & used to mould a robots personality some day?

well obviously not.

does the price of our lives all amount down to slave ways?

LABOUR YAY!

but morals & values it seems we’ve forgot.

sO If i don’t speak its cos I’m lost.

or maybe i’m enlightened-

Standing at the edge of the porch;

watching TRYING to understand how the flowers grow.

questioning eVERYTHING man made!

I’ve stepped out of the perfect picture frame

I can see the coal pollute the sky

I need to hop on the train-

but I’m comfortable

Sunset to sunrise statue standing still.

what’s the ingredients to life’s yucky pie?

I’ve exceeded mental lotteries.

Sanity n universal peace would be a trophy.

TIL then I’ll be crafting & shaping a solid pottery reality,

with a few pence, gum, and a bandana of belongings tied to stick.

thinking one day I’ll be laying the bricks

& building a kingdom of bliss.

guess for now I’ll use the intricate delicate materials in my tool box- that’s all I’ve got.

might have a long way- maybe worth a shot.

I observe, cruisin in the sky.

dunno why..

I jus look @ the hills.

Only time & history reveals.

no thanks mr men-

I don’t want your prescription pills.

there’s enough propaganda as it is.

I won’t jump on the merry go round-

til my core trusts & envisions we’ll actually feel safe!

I don’t want to take part in this faux fur, sweet nothings & a jack in a box punching blur, so called future.

oh and genuinely thanks quarantine-for once again, I can hear bird sounds!

guess this is me tryna speak out loud!!!...

it’s not thrilling

system  time killing everything-

mother nature’s oxygen

everything is nauseating

clock ticking, I better start creating.

they should write a book on how to be free when the system set us up to believe that we’re tied to the cut down trees that gives them a currency of greed that they breed.

If blindfolded, I don’t wanna eat what they feed.

Whilst they profit of us -tell us smile and the bandits don’t wanna see us happy.

they’re too busy robbing all our hoods.

In exchange for the silence, they’ve granted us with a 21’st century fashion garment of a slave muzzle! labelled conform.

More delusion to add to the already desensitised norm.

zootonic diseases, welcome covid 19 to your plastic kiddy tea party!- apologies for questioning your motive!

Been handed too many hot plates with a post it note saying HOLD THIS.

we’ll be okay just hush.

Same Shan message told to every generational seed.

If we don’t TRY overpower-

we’ll never succeed!

it’s getting even more scary.

Artificial intelligence.

Societal negligence..

my canvas isn’t clear-dunno am I schizo ?

finger painting, cos it makes more sense.

struggling to blend.

borderline conspiracist pretending to be fine;

moving the goal post, hovering above the race line.

who made the chalk? who set the lanes?

I wanna know it all, maybe¿ far past insane.

I can fit all I need in the palm of my hand,

Maybe even less! cut a finger off not sure it’ll even add stress.

hi from personality Peter, even sober- always away with the fairies.

Pass the pixie dust, I’m in a rush

Found shelter in the comfort of pan physicists timer, no not the one on your phone!

Ring ring, skeptical! is it my demon or my mommy on the phone?

I’m stuck in the airspace of an infinite glass filled with beach particles trying to form myself standing up still attempting not to slip through the hands of my very own discovery.

time is running out & ill go when I go.

I’m sitting inside the fly trap -

stardust, chakras can you feel the sensation colors like a starburst.

deep emotion is a curse.

still entrapped in the sand dune of nothingness-

flipping a domino monopoly of solidified thoughts as I sway with the wind.

I’m the trapped sandbox in the playground & the slipping sand in my own hands.

Inhale chronic but I wanna enter the quiet realm of white noise

-color of a wife beater vest, calmer than the ease in ignorance of a red neck.

sadomasochistic, messes.

but oblivion, seems like less stress.

Unfortunately I can see, with all eyes

empathetic paralysis, gets me vexed.

Punching truth into the core of your chest!

It’s not funny, neither is the one on the receiving end..

My limbs are numb

& im done playing octopus alchemy.

I want minimalism & life can be simple,

Evil entities have made it hard.

Maybe I’ve got stars above my head like an old cartoon character.

But I can’t make it make sense, are they out to get me. worse all of us? Or have I bottled myself tryna re mesh the broken shards,

I feel glued to the floor cos there’s a pretty price to pay if you want more.

I see life through a different lense, maybe born downside up, Benjamin button I came out the back door-

Outside looking in, digesting confusion.

Is to be a product of environment a sin?

rummage through my messy brain.

personalities sardine packed in this tin

I’m the wizard of my mania

Scaring & attracting the black crows-

they’re my friends.

Sometimes still a cowardly lion

Roaring pain & true riddles at the wrenching wicked witch posse of the west.

will my voice ever be loud enough to shed light wit my words and grate the sweet zest

In to the cake i’m baking?

Probably not.

Got more thoughts than the autumn leaves collected by the garden rake. alone.

gathering & storing the pains of yesterday.

sometimes I stay in line

Other times in my head Im on my hands juggling out of time.

but I really don’t mind if I lose or win.

we all have a pace

I jus don’t want the 1% to win the race.

It’s unfair!

Humanity does anyone care ??

Half lady

half fairy

Good  MOOrning-

from my anagrams.

no I’m not a cow.

twister fidget spinner brain in the flesh-

form of expression this time around lyrics.

feel I’m jus a silly rubix

& still mourning

I don’t like dairy

pass the oat milk.

Are you aware the industry are sabotaging our diets?

we want peace!

the powerful elite-

perceive & deceive

the scene they want us to be.

chuck the narcissistic psychopathic pie back in our face-

every time we almost found & addressed the Programme & Control man in the maze.

evil & extroverted- he said that the anarchists have to be the cause of riots.

working isn’t class. I said let’s switch roles- he said pass.

It’s piss! Who’s got the bomb & the guns?

Who got the land? off wit OUR heads 4 fun!

it’s pure scary.

Pharmaceutics handshake.

with the cooked up suppliers, also crooked wack liars.

I’d rather shot a gallon of bloody blubbery infused slaughter house milk

If it meant we didn’t use cocoons for silk.

why not add a drizzle of bleach to the concoction & maybe that’s a reach.

every time I guzzle fakeness, it taste peak.

I want real fruit, what next-

a seedless peach ???

what’s the difference between a weirdo & a freak?

layers & levels to the shit.

Magnifying tapping the window of society, I’ll be puffing green til I get to the land of Oz.

sponge soaked soaking up emotions

Suffocated by deduction of care in life

feel entrapped in this paradigm

what am I thinking ?

got the verbs & a cuppa tea

It’s mixed with torment & desire to be free.

I’d rather be awake than asleep

When I get too comfy I feel weak

Demons they reap

underneath

rip the seems as I bleed

Concrete

Solid

Emotions

Is all you’re getting

It’s all sad scenes in the imagery I’m setting

people need care we seem to be forgetting

why are we in debt wit

a posse of clowns

pay the price so we can get a frown

here’s some seratonin

quit ya moaning

life is all sound

aw yeh¿  if you’re not an over thinker!

product of environment- Sirius flickers

theyve done a ritual like it’s Wicca

now here’s your gold sticker..

for managing to co operate.

In this world fuelled off of evil n hate

waking ups a bloody disgrace

I am not amazed.

Man I love my fam n my friends

Just hate this part of my brain that feels the need to play pretend

sometimes I feel insane

but I’m calm

need to escape so I don’t do harm

Gold lioness in the sky by the sea

with puff the magic dragon

fire out my mouth, fuel helps me breathe

I will shine bright

Promise imma be alright

even tho I’m not sure why

I function like this

I wanna be myself

It’s just hard to find the comfortability

To feel happy and pretty

Lay me down on a bed of roses

Ring around sing about overdose emotions

Sorry dunno how to communicate

Heads in a constant debate

Should I go or should I stay

My head clashes

Burnin the next ciggy as my thoughts become ashes.

[inkribbon796]

Hearts Club: Hypno Tulips

Summary: It’s Valentine’s Day and Wil just wants to spend some time with Dark. But Dark doesn’t seem like he’s relaxing as the night goes on.

<= Back to Main

Dark was in his office, trying to get as much work done as possible. It was Valentine’s Day. Wil tended to track him down, and Dark enjoyed the pursuit a bit more than he cared to admit.

The entity was reading expense reports, along with some information slipped to him from the police commissioner, when Wil walked in. He was dressed in a yellow suit with a pink dress shirt.

“Oh, Darky,” Wil’s voice took on a little bit of a sing-song tune.

Looking up, Dark saw that Wil had a rather impressive bouquet of black tulips with a purple hue to each flower cradled gently in one arm, his other arm hiding something behind his back.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Darkling,” Wil smiled warmly.

Dark glanced over at his calendar, holding up his hand to summon a large jewelry box from the Void. “So it is.”

The reporter made an excited squeaking noise, his smile becoming wider and even more excited. “Is that for little old me?”

Carefully setting down the box, Dark gave the reporter one of his little half-smiles. “Of course, Wil.”

“Before I give you the rest of your gift,” Wilford pulled out five candied roses from behind his back. The rose made of pieces of clear hard sugar candy that had pieces of cotton candy or licorice embedded into it. Forming a delicate flower.

Dark just stared at the roses in surprise, leaning forward, “Where’s you get those?”

“A little birdie gave them to me,” Wil smiled, holding the sugar roses out.

Dark gave his partner a flat, unimpressed look, “You saw one of my Lost Ones and didn’t bother to bring him home?”

Wil looked confused, opening up the jewelry box and smiling when he saw a pin in it. The pin was a metal flower with a dusty pink color to it. At the center of the flower was an old film reel. “Unless he suddenly developed the ability to turn himself into a raven, no.”

The entity rubbed his forehead with the pads of his fingers, “You took candy a bird gave you? Instead of following it back to where Kay was?”

“Cause it’s easier than taking it from a baby,” the reporter gave Dark a rather cheeky, too proud smile. He summoned up a vase for the flowers, but Dark took the candied roses before Wil could stick them into the same vase as the actual flowers.

Dark’s groan was audible, “Remind me again why I’m with you?”

Wilford’s smiled a bit more sharply, suddenly devious and Dark watched him suspiciously as Wil appeared at the other side of Dark’s desk, standing over him. His new pin on his lapel. He leaned down so that their faces were too close for anyone other than Dark to be comfortable. The mad reporter, who seemed a little less mad than usual, traced the outline of his face. Dark seemed to not even blink with Wil this close to him.

“Well, for starters,” the reporter grinned. “You love me.”

Dark smiled, rolling his eyes. “I should start reconsidering that.”

Wil leaned in and kissed him, gently cradling the back of his head.

“You are lucky I love you,” Dark reminded him. “I should have left you in jail in ‘73.”

Kneeling down, Wil’s lips seized Dark’s again, a quick kiss, grabbing Dark’s chair and pulling him closer.

Breaking away, Dark gave a chuckle as Wil moved down to his neck. “Bit forward, aren’t we?”

“Let’s go out for a night on the town,” Wil pleaded. “Take a day to relax. I’m sure you’ll feel much better afterward.”

The entity leaned back in his chair, his eyes going to all the papers on his desk. He probably should go down and check warehouse 13, because the last time he let that one linger out of his control for so long, people got superpowers. He had a city to run, Damien had paperwork to go over.

So he looked back at Wil, prepared to say that whatever plans Wil had, they could stay indoors and cuddle by the fireplace. But Wil’s dark brown eyes were begging up at him. The reporter was even quivering his lip, looking like a sad puppy.

Dark had his head in his hand, sighing. “Fine, let me find something nice to wear.”

“Yay!” Wil cheered, snapping his fingers and all Dark’s papers disappeared. Dark internally groaned at the mess his safe probably was at this second, he was going to have to waste an hour cleaning it. “You’re dressed enough.”

Then he scooped Dark out of his chair.

“Wil! I’ve been in this suit all day,” Dark barked indignantly as Wil was already starting to walk towards the door with him. “Put me down.”

“You look as pretty as a peach, Dark,” Wil told him. “Bet I can find you something nice if you want.”

After a little bit of bickering, Dark was in a new suit, as the two were sitting in Dark’s private room in his favorite restaurant in town. The date was peaceful, probably because of Dark’s sudden change of plans. The two were unbothered by anyone else and eventually they went back home, disappearing into the Void.

“Still so tense, Darkling?” Wil chuckled as Dark rolled his shoulders.

“I am always tense,” Dark admitted. “I’m a walking corpse.”

Wilford let out a loud cackle, “Oh, you are a riot, my dear.”

Dark rolled his eyes, trying to will his body’s back to let him pop it back into place. “I’m glad I amuse you.”

Briefly Wil’s aura danced in front of Dark’s eyes, a spinning, swirling cacophony of pinks and golds. Wil’s eyes turning into the same swirl. “I could help you with that.”

Wil’s hands went to Dark’s back, right where Dark’s fingers were. Decades ago, Dark would have jumped, bitten or kicked anyone for touching him. But Wil’s hands were familiar.

“Finding a new way to get me into bed?” Dark smiled, looking at Wil’s face. His aura worked as a natural shield against Wil’s magic, even if it wasn’t visible.

“Eventually,” Wil chuckled, his other hand tracing Dark’s neck. “But I promised I’d help you relax, and Ol’ Warfstache keeps his promises.”

“You do, don’t you?” Dark grinned, threading a hand into Wilford’s curly hair. “I better not wake up in Tahiti then.”

“Only if I’m there with you,” Wil returned his attention to Dark’s neck, and Dark leaned into him as he turned his head to look back into the swirling mass of madness and color. Carefully, Dark pulled away some of his aura away from himself as Wil’s aura was trying to latch onto his mind.

Slowly Wil took his hand away from Dark’s back, the ringing almost completely gone from the room as Dark just stared at Wil’s swirling and twisting aura.

“There we go,” Wil smiled into Dark’s neck. “You’re always so tense.”

“Hmm,” Dark commented, his arms feeling too heavy for him to move. There was some part of the shared split mind that made up Dark that was still active and thinking. He tried to turn around to give Wil a real answer but now that he’d started actually looking at Wil’s aura his whole body felt warm and comfortable.

“Now, let’s help you work out some of those knots in your back,” Wil asked, his hands reaching for Dark’s tie. He pulled it off and Dark’s aura seemed to rip away from it, revealing a dark wine red tie. Wil just admired it for a couple seconds and then tossed it onto the desk, grabbing Dark by the front of his suit and whirling him around for another deep kiss. Dark kissed him back, still dazed from Wil’s aura.

With a huge grin, Wil teleported the two into their bedroom. Leaving Dark’s tie laying on the desk, haphazardly thrown to the side.

[parkspring4-blog]

I Like Home Too.

Travel

by Jenn P.  |   on March 26th, 2018  | 

Vin and I have this game we play every time we get out of town. He’ll ask, “Can you imagine growing up here? What do you think you would have been like?”  “Do you think you’d be different?” Vin has only lived in New York City, and I think he has a difficult time imagining life any other way.

Whenever he asks these questions, we’re usually in a car whizzing by houses that are much, much larger than ours or walking down an impeccably clean street that smells like jasmine or gardenias. Sometimes we’re in a charming local store sniffing woodsy paraffin candles or admiring jars of rosemary-infused jams. On rare occasions we’re in a place so different from home it’s almost impossible to imagine a life there– on a bone-white patio perched on the edge of the bright-blue sea in Greece, or sweating in late December on the cobblestone streets of Old San Juan.

We think about how our lives could have turned out differently if we’d grown up in really small American towns like Saugerties, New York or Fredericksburg, Texas; if we’d have liked the same music or had the same types of friends. I wonder what kinds of jobs local kids have in the summertime and what their parents cook them for dinner. I wonder what dishes are becoming the blueprint for every future memory associated with home. If I’d grown up in New England maybe I’d reach for a bowl carved from soft bread and filled with clam chowder when I was having a bad day. If Cincinnati was home, I’d put chili on a plate of spaghetti and cover it with cheese instead of pour it inside a bag of Fritos and top it with raw onions.

And because I live here, I often wonder how different I’d be if I’d spent my childhood in New York City. Would I be a little tougher, a little quicker to assert myself? Would I have spent weekends touring museums instead of laying out in the sun? I sometimes look at my husband and think he would have been exactly who he is no matter where he was. Or maybe I just have a hard time imagining him any other way.

After a while we flip to, “What do you think? Think you could live here?”

Vinny always answers no. Sometimes in calmer, smaller towns, I picture myself in my 60s and answer yes. The only time I answered “Absolutely! I could move here right now!” was in Barcelona. I cried after our last dinner there because I wasn’t ready to go home. That’s the only place that ever happened in, and I think it means something, but I’m not sure what. At the very least I should probably start brushing up on my Catalan.

Last week we took a trip to the American South, starting in Charleston then driving our way to Savannah, and I don’t know why I never realized before how beautiful that part of our country is. The buildings are old and ornate with long skinny porches that creak underfoot and host hanging baskets of pink and yellow begonias and climbing trellises of ivy. Black wooden shutters frame windows and delicate iron gates tiptoe around small front yards and walkways. Narrow alleys are lined with cobblestones and history and the scent of very old money. Fathers take their boys to fish for bass and bream in the shallow salt marshes and tidal creeks. Majestic live oaks arch overhead and drip with Spanish moss like some kind of gothic fairytale dream, and just when you think the entire world has turned green an azalea bush erupts in a riot of hot pink.

We check into our candy-colored bed and breakfast in Charleston and take a deep breath of fresh spring air on our side porch. We dress for dinner, which we’ve already decided will be fried chicken and crab cakes, served in a wallpapered room in the back of a restored Victorian house.

We carry our craft cocktails to the table and the waiter says to us, “I knew you folks were from New York City the minute you walked in, and I mean that as a compliment.”

“Thank you, “I say. “We take it as one.”

We spend the next few days walking around, taking our time, sleeping in formal old homes where we sip peach tea on swinging benches and cutting quick paths to our next restaurant. Once we start eating we don’t stop. We eat like our time on earth is running out. We slurp she-crab soup thickened with heavy cream and sweetened with sherry, stand in line for tiny buttermilk biscuits we coat in butter and sticky honey, dive into bowls of collard greens seasoned with ham hocks and tangy vinegar.  We swipe fried pimento balls through a river of green tomato relish and swirl a tiny pool of butter into a bowl of creamy hominy grits, topped with tiny bits of bacon and shrimp the size of my elbow. We did this for five nights and six days, until our wallets and waistbands quietly whispered, “Go home. ” Vinny demolished half an apple pie in the uber on the way to the airport.

We take our quick flight, eager to land before the impending snowstorm. We’d given ourselves a quick glimpse of springtime, but were headed back to our cold New York City winter. On the plane I read a book about traveling that I’d borrowed from my friend and dream about all the delicious places in this world I’d be lucky to see.

Eventually we begin our final descent and I look to my left at the familiar skyline unfolding beneath me. A smile spreads across my face like softened butter. Vin is asleep, so I nudge him gently in the arm. “Wake up, Vinny. We’re home.”

“Yay”, he says, and rubs his eyes. “I’m glad we’re here. I like home.’

“I like home too”, I say, and reach to get my bag.

  Jenn P.

30-something psychotherapist. Loves cooking, hosting parties, exploring new places. Texan by birth. New Yorker by choice. Likes to tell little stories. Pull up a chair; I'll tell you one.

Source: http://muchtomydelight.com/2018/03/i-like-home-too.html