It’s been a while since I last wrote. I don’t want to force a piece – the themes occupying my subconscious have been more about the external world than that of my inner worlds. Perhaps there is some tradeoff between intellectual stimulation and quiet introspection. But I’m not complaining. Like seasons, the different voices in my head can take turns claiming the stage.
Coming home, however, tends to amplify the voices of my soul. I suspect it’s a function of how out of sync I’m living, and how silent the days become: working in California hours when streets are empty while observing the sun rise; falling asleep on the couch while trying my best to spend time with loved ones. Somehow in all the silence I still need my headphones – and often, it’s just 1 song on repeat.
Being physically home also means I’m forced to confront what could previously remain virtual. It’s hard to overlook change when it’s tangible and visible. Forget the ever-improving payment systems, new train stations, or the worsening heat (I’m just weak). When evaluating familiarity versus foreignness, I find that spaces/places and communities matter most. It’s isolating when these disappear, even when you expected them to.
One of these spaces I hold dear is a local Starbucks (forgive me, Americans). I probably spent every other day here for over 4 straight years. It was a ritual in a sacred space–through high school exams to college applications. Well, time leaves its marks. Business has been challenging with modern cafes opening at every other corner. It has since been bought, then renovated, then replaced with a new F&B chain (for sentimental reasons, I refuse to support it). I remember saying my goodbyes to the barista team when leaving for college, particularly to the 1 barista who alone made this franchise feel local and familiar. Back then, she was about to take time off, in search of a kidney transplant. I didn’t get her contact then, and now I no longer know whom to ask for it. Frankly, I’m not sure I dare.
Maybe this is a phase. Maybe early adulthood is all about necessary compromises, and this is mine, in return for promise and possibility. Missed weddings, unshared milestones, last goodbyes – how will they add up, and when will it be too much to justify? I wonder if my conviction in a career abroad is faltering, and if the premises still lived as soundly. Then again, maybe change would have similarly happened regardless of my location or choices, just in different permutations and dimensions.
This is growing up, truly. Let’s catch up!
Hugs.