There are certain things that habit doesn’t forget, no matter how long it has been. Even when new routines have been remade several times, and old routines are primarily forgotten but rediscovered when streets and buildings and senses become familiar. Like unbuckling the seatbelt when driving under the ‘Welcome to Eastview’ sign. My hand just knew when.
At times I feel like I have a firm grip on the idea of home, that it is where you presently are, and it is more than just something physical, but I’ve caught myself in certain situations. Like saying, ‘No, I didn’t bring my camera, I left it at home,’ referring to Montreal. Or while in Montreal, ‘Yep, I’m going home for two weeks.’ Something doesn’t line up. Because both places feel homey, but many times neither feels like home. And if home is where I presently am, and where I presently am doesn’t feel like home then I have a backwards idea of home, or home doesn’t feel like what I think it should. But it is good to be here. Real good.
I am doing my best to discover if there is difference is between this idea of ‘home’ and the idea of ‘where one belongs’ at a certain moment. If a difference actually exists, then I feel like I’ve found many temporary homes, and that might be all I can find.
Habit doesn’t forget places, nor does it forget how things are done. The floor is where I sleep. The chair is where I lounge. The DQ is where I eat. But habit can forget hows and whys.