sense of place

the following is an excerpt from luis alberto urrea's in search of snow:

Bobo was as happy as Mike had ever seen him... He envied Bobo his eager stare, the way he looked in every direction, obviously loving each rock, tree, glint of broken glass on the tracks. Mike didn't know what to call it. If Lily had been there, he'd have asked her, and she'd have said, Sense of place. Something fancy like that. Mike had it: it was Home.

i read that passage en route from houston to bakersfield. a couple of hours later, i found myself looking down at the glow of lights of a night-time bakersfield as my plane prepared to touch down at meadow's field.

my mom and sister were waiting to meet me, and in no time at all we were on our way home. even in the dark i know my part of town by heart. from the airport, we drive toward silhouettes of palm trees dotting the panorama bluffs. minutes later, our view from above is orange lights of oil refineries that never sleep. bakersfield junior college to our right. the gentle wind of panorama drive through a residential area leading to our house.

and i found myself feeling like bobo, loving the palm trees and the oil refineries. the houses on panorama drive i know so well (though i don't know who lives in them!). the college i never attended. i let my gaze drink it all in because it gives me that "sense of place" during this very uncertain/unstable time of life. i am strangely soothed by these ordinary sights because bakersfield is my touchstone. and no matter where i've been or where i'll go, it will always be. home.

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