Photography and text: Corey Amaro
Before I arrive in California I dream of the time I will have with my family, what we will see, do and talk about. I dream of the hours we will spend together. I imagine it will be exactly as I dream about.
Hours with my mothers, hours with each of my brothers and sister in laws, hours with my nieces, nephews, aunts, uncle, cousins, friends… How I wil go here, there, and there again to see them.
Though the moment I arrive I feel it flashing by at record speed and I wonder:
Is a day truly measured in twenty-four hours, when it feels it passes by in ten seconds?
I find myself weaving through memories, photos, and thoughts. The doings of the year gone by, catching up on stories, who has done what and who is going where, and what is and has been. Catching up takes time, the calendar with X's tells me so.
My holiday back home never seems long enough I complain, yet at the same time I am grateful that I can visit as I do.
Torn between two worlds. Thankful I have two worlds.
The ever present tide of emotion of having one foot in France, and one foot in California.
Missing someone is a given in my heart.
Yann calls with his French accent pouring down my ear straight to my toes.
My Mom takes out a tray of cookies from the oven, the aroma stirs my stomach.
A friend writes and I realize that we are not going to see one another, even though I have dreamed so for over a year.
Going home.
Feeling at home.
It is all the same.
Cross roads.
Leading in different directions to the same place.
Oh Willows.
Oh Amaro.
Oh France.
Oh landscape.
Starry sky.
Burritos.
Snickerdoodles.
Bonfires.
Nieces with long hair.
Yann, Chelsea, Sacha, Annie, Thierry, Brocante…
Old barns.
Dairies,
Pick up trucks,
Rice fields.
I have a few days left in Willows … dang it!
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