I walked into my old house yesterday with the feeling of regret. Not regret from the previous few months, but for returning to the comfort and security that this house brings. I lived in this house for three years (the longest consecutive time spent in a house my entire life) and have fond and devastating memories attached to it. Three years is a long time. I walked into my old room, knowing that it was someone else's. However, I wiggled my toes in the terrible fuchsia carpet that I was incredibly allergic to, put on the overhead fan that you would swear was going to fall off the ceiling at any moment, closed the black blinds covered in dust, and curled up in this strangers bed. I fell asleep to the sounds of traffic on the Hanlon and Kortright, and I have not had such a solid sleep in a very long time. I slept for almost ten hours without waking up. I am pretty sure I woke up in the same position as when I fell asleep.
I went to the washroom, hearing the memorable squeaks of the faucet, walked down the stairs, hearing every memorable creek of the weakness of the wood underneath and made tea and breakfast later than I should have. An act I would have done everyday I was a student with no job. I sat in front of a computer catching up on my tv shows, another act I would have done everyday I was a student with no job.
I had so much time to myself when I was at school. Almost all people I dated did not live in Guelph so I got to do my own thing the majority of the time. I am surprisingly content with being back here. Definitely not permanent, but comfortable for a few days. My cat fell right back at home, perched at the doorway of my old room as my security guard.
No one has been here, and I know once Lydia is back I am going to feel like a student again. Numerous people have called me a homebody because I spent a lot of my time at home with my friends - watching movies, having dinner together, talking about (my) notorious boy dramas, and being proud of each others accomplishments at school.
When I am away from Guelph, I feel so happy I got out. But I miss the quiet of my street (except during frosh and exams), jogs around the block, listening to music and reading notes on the bus to school, and walking everywhere because I did not need a car.
I guess I am just being sentimental and nostalgic. There are only a few situations in life that make me feel this way. Some get this feeling from thinking and being with people, but I mostly get it from places. A place is a specific instance where something occurred. I do associate certain people to certain places, but more so I associate security to certain places. This is numero uno.
I think I am just rambling, and my writing probably does not make much sense anymore.
I know one thing - by the end of my fourth year, I would find every excuse to leave Guelph and go to the city (almost every weekend). Now, I find myself feeling pretty great about leaving the city, and enjoying the quiet of Guelph.
Funny.
