finding fairfax

i awoke this morning in a way i haven't for some time. the light crept in an ambient way towards my eyes, shaking me ever so slightly and letting me doze once or twice before gently urging me to rouse. i saw an orange carpet, a red plaid suitcase, and a window looking out over a green hillside against a perfect blue sky. this is the view from my bed. i closed my eyes and opened them again: the sight remained the same. the sense of melancholy approached me much like the morning light, and i've been here ever since, wondering how it is that i've found myself in a place i thought i'd left, when it seems that every day has been something new for the past 29 complete turns of the earth.

all day it's been a struggle to find the joy of being home, despite all the time i've been away. the closest thing to delight has been the discovery of raspberries in the garden, and locally grown peaches at the market. my walk to town revealed a change in landscape, which interested me mildly. the path is now lined with blooming cacti, yellow crepe paper blossoms perched on prickly pears. the hillside is brown with dead grass, recently mowed down for fire prevention. i could have predicted this, however. i've tried to be open. i know this is not the place i left, as much as i'd like to sit beneath that belief and get comfortable with what it is i think i know. travelling is easy. discovering something new where you're less likely to imagine the possibilities is the challenge.

i wish for something clever to come to mind. i wait for the moment where i get excited about what i don't know. it doesn't happen. the wind whips in from the west, carrying notes from the expansive pacific ocean, but i've heard them before, and i'm uneasy with the familiarity. i feel my heart sink to a new depth. i'm going in after it.