Maybe just think it
Don’t say welcome home to me
My home is not here
There’s no place like it. At least that’s what the movie line says. Click the heels of the bedazzled Mary Jane’s together and say it with conviction: there’s no place like home. When you open your eyes what are you supposed to see? According to the script that’s when you see the family who loves you so much that they know when you’re home.
That family never says welcome home because they know it’s meaningless and patronizing. Or worse, it’s actually a way of claiming a space, making it clear you’re now in their version of home so play nicely with the others, please and thank you.
I don’t have to play at all but I’ll play along with the people in the first circle of polite chit chat. If I get to the fifth layer, I’ll reconsider even though at that point it’ll likely be way too late.
For now I’ll smile enough to make the lie mostly believable but I’ll always wonder why people have to make themselves feel better instead of acknowledging that the person they’re talking to just might feel differently.
As for me, yes I’m talking about the condescension, the tribalism and the judgement. I’ve always felt that but never more so than here with most of the people. Different groups with different rules but mostly it’s me. It’s my issue. I feel groundless. I
‘m the one who’s never found a way to be comfortable fitting in with the fake hippie or being in the insect-ridden summer while everyone else looks at me like I generated those welts on my skin, because they didn’t see any mosquitos.
Yep. I’m sitting in this latitude conjuring the mosquitoes. Nope. I don’t want to sit outside in the grass.
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