It's Always Very Pure, That

The First Thing I Did When I Got Inside Was Turn On The Kitchen Light. Then I Moved To The Table, Putting My Dad's Ipod On The Speaker Dock, And A Bob Dylan Song Came On, The Notes Familiar. I Went Into The Living Room, Hitting The Switch There, Then Down The Hallway To My Room, Where I Did The Same. It Was Amazing What A Little Noise And Brightness Could Do To A House And A Life, How Much The Smallest Bit Of Each Could Change Everything. After All These Years Of Just Passing Through, I Was Beginning To Finally Feel At Home.

I Always Tried To Imagine What It Would Be Like To Open Your Door To Find Something You Had Given Up On. Maybe It Had Seen Places You Never Had, Been Rerouted And Passed Through So Many Strange Hands, But Still Somehow Found Its Way Back To You, All Before The Day Even Began.

There's Something Nice About The Silence Of A Car Ride In The Dark, Going Home. When You Were Tired Of The Radio And Conversation, And It Was Okay To Just Be Alone With Your Thoughts And The Road Ahead. If You're That Comfortable With Someone, You Don't Have To Talk.

Sometimes. It Was A Good Escape. Until, You Know, It Wasn‟t.

That Was The Thing About Being On The Inside: The World Was Just Going On, Even When It Seemed Like Time For You Had Stopped For Good.