we journey home. we
ignore phone. we
fuzzy head. we
sleep like dead. we
transcribe thoughts. we
outline plots. we
cherish sweat. we
Yeah, I went there. Apologies to Gwendolyn Brooks.
Part of me knows that returning home from the VCFA residency means at least a day of readjustment. Some have to jump right back into work and suffer the jolt of real world like a case of concentrated emotional jet lag. For those of us who can ease back into things it’s still quite disorienting, not unlike the feeling on the first mostly-normal day after a long sickness.
The lines above came to me while shopping for groceries. One of my classmates mentioned sleeping like the dead last night, another about catching up on email… things flipped around a bit in my head and found their way into Ms. Brooks meter. I don’t pretend to fully understand how and why my brain works.
So as we VCFAers emerge from the fog of our Germelshausen, some of us never to return, back into a world of cheese sandwiches and pause buttons and emotional trajectories, there is a bittersweetness.
We are forever of two homes, but only one is real.