24 August 2011
Where am I?
I have moments when I forget that I've moved across the country. Sometimes, when I'm not fully present, I get disoriented for an instant and I can't figure out where I am. Especially at places like Target. The surroundings are familiar - the same layout in every store in America - and I stop and think, "Wait. Am I at the Edina store or St. Louis Park store?" Two stores that don't exist in New Hampshire. In fact, New Hampshire just got it's first Target 2 years ago - a fact that was hidden from me or surely I would have reconsidered the whole move. Going into Target is like going into a time warp or stepping into another dimension; I could be anywhere. How am I supposed to know?
And then I hear a loud, nasal voice on its way to the parking lot say, "GAWD I HATE THIS STOOPID CAHT!" And I'm shaken back into reality. My mind tumbles at warp speed into the here and now.
It's always someone's voice that shakes me into reality. That foreign-sounding patois that indicates a location on the map. Sometimes it's a cashier that wakes me up: "That'll be twelve-oh-foah, please. Do you have a quawtah?" I often say out loud, "oh yeah" - not to the amount but to the fact that I now live on the east coast.