Mar. 14th, 2003

Over the past couple of days, as folks have asked how I was doing, my default answer was usually stressed, busy, crazy or all of the above. My work days have blurred by as I tied up loose ends and handed projects off to co-workers, and my nights have likewise sped past, occupied by last minute dinners and drinks with friends, wishing me well and hoping for safe travels.

Compared to all of that, this night was almost glacial ... peaceful really. There was the one last dinner, and the extended, unhurried conversation over the bill. We talked about why I was going back, what I wanted to do while I was there, and I spoke of vague plans and wishful thoughts. But it all boiled down to this: there are memories in my mind of a country and a city that possessed a magic realism that I've rarely found elsewhere, and to this day, I don't know how much of that was inherent to the land that I grew up in and how much was youthful imagination. I am going back to see it all with the eyes of an adult, and I hope that by doing so, I'll get a better idea of who I was, who I am and who I hope to be.

There are stories -- stories of why my family moved to North America, and how we left certain things behind -- and as with all stories, they change based on the teller, the audience and the telling. but there are truths central to each of them, and one way to find that truth is to seek that alternate telling.

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cpostrophe

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