its hard being away from home, both of my homes - but in the spirit of truly attempting to remain present in the moment, experiencing life as it happens, ive allowed a whole host of wanted and unwanted emotions to bubble away since being here - driving along old streets, memories, reminders of my past - acutely reminds me of the hardest thing in being away from home, cues.
As you walk about the town/village/city/country from where you hail, tiny, minute cues trigger conscious and unconscious memories, some of which you dwell upon, others you dismiss - but this is a constant, always happening on some level. Moving away from your country, those cues vanish, its hard to define, like capturing smoke, but this is the thing that's the hardest - your past relies solely in your conscious recall.
Now not, right now, sitting in the conservatory of mums house, listening to wood pigeons, and starlings tweet and chirp, memories are stirred of childhood, tree-houses, wood fires, hay baling, long hot drives to crammed coastal towns annually. and every day so far, the same - so i'm sucking it all in, storing it away, remembering so i can later remember.
and...beer gardens...i've traveled wide and far through my life, but nothing beats a English beer garden in unseasonably warm spring afternoon sunshine...
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