It's not exactly easy for me to say what I am about to tell you, mainly because I am one of the most stubborn people I know, but anyway...
There once was a time where I was gazing out at the Atlantic, Miss Atlantic, and I would watch the way the waves would fold over with no acknowledgment of what lied in their path. It was a reckless journey to say the least. But while I watched these white-tips turn over and smash into the areas of the sand where its particles were always caught in a war between breathing or drowning, I would find myself kicking up sand castles just to watch them disappear into the backdrop of a burning Southern sun, where birds would fly freely with no clouds above. It was perfect, so perfect, that at the time I truly believed I never wanted to live in Rochester again... you know Rochester, that little place I sometimes called home, you know, when I wasn't too busy attempting to pretend it held no beauty.
So, this is the part that is difficult for me to admit, but it needs to be said: I'm starting to think I want to live here for the rest of my life, you know, call this place home, like it always has been since the first day I left my mothers womb. Having said that, do not twist my words, which people so often enjoy doing when they don't truly understand something. I am not saying I am done traveling, or seeing different places, I am merely explaining that I am ready to tell you that this is the next chapter of my life, and I truly believe it's meant to begin and end here, you know, in this little place I should have always called home. But let me explain why...
I recently had the glory of seeing Fall for the first time in four years. I know what you're probably thinking: What do you mean, see Fall? You have definitely seen Fall in the past four years Michael! And although you are mostly correct, because I have seen it, mainly from a distance, driving through different states and what-not, this doesn't mean I have SEEN it. To me, a season where the leaves slowly change, you cannot truly appreciate the process of a once green leaf changing from reddish-orange to yellow from a distant passing in a car. Honestly, you may have a better chance of catching the day turn into night (you remember that, when we were younger, how we always wanted so dearly to catch the magnificent moment when light would become dark, or sun would become moon... a complicated process far beyond the simplistic measures of claiming nightfall).
Also, I am looking forward to Winter this year, which is another difficult thing for me to admit, primarily because if you're from Rochester you know how bad the snow can pile up here. But after all these years, I've learned something about Winters here, it's not the snow nor the brisk air that makes cold months ironically a burning hell, it's the people that have forgotten the beauty behind the changing of seasons. It's astonishing how easily influenced we are by the weather... it's amazing how weak we all become too, as if our bodies become so brittle, we act like we all hang like icicles from a porch just waiting to fall and break, and shatter like pointless glass that never served a purpose. You see that right there? That was over-dramatizing a situation. It's similar to when you act like a complete selfish asshole and bitch about brushing off your car in the morning or shoveling a walkway for three months out of the whole year. You know, being over dramatic about a minor task you need to do when there is far greater things to worry about. But I'm not just talking about certain people, almost all of us are guilty of this.
Speaking of dramatizing something, I don't want to overdo this one, so please allow me a moment to conclude what I'm trying to say:
What it comes down to is simple... in the air, I need change. I need the ground to challenge my feet on some days. I enjoy that not every morning is the same here, and as much as I'd like to murder the rain, without a storm how is their every sunny days? Since I've been home, I'm beginning to remember how good feeling every season change is for the heart, because I believe the process of them changing keeps our beats fresh, in sync with our soul- that thing we so often forget that is more important than our eyes and skin. Don't get me wrong, letting my body burn in the hot sun everyday overlooking the ocean is beautiful and all, but that too can become repetitive. Plus, I don't want to get too much into it, maybe some other time, but the truth is it is not the place, it's the people. You could stand in the sand and look out into any ocean all you'd like, but if you don't have someone next to you that you love and have known for your whole life to turn to and explain how beautiful it is, the waves then don't crash the same, if you know what I mean.
If you keep up with these, then you know that I usually begin them with a little poem... this one I did not. This is because when I was walking around outside this morning at roughly 6:30 am after falling asleep at 5:00 am ( yup, nothings changed, my sleeping habits are still fuckin' crazy), I wrote poetry in this Rochester air with my breath...and it went something like this:
I cannot breathe
without the burning of leaves,
I cannot see without the snow.
I need to see the seasons change,
and I'm beginning to believe
that I need this home.
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