Where's Home?

On the taxi ride back into Rome a few days ago, I ruminated on these thoughts:

1. I no longer have a ticket to fly back home.
2. THIS place is now home.

Every daytime drive I ever made from Georgia to Virginia over the last 26 years was punctuated by certain sites that became fixtures, for me.  Fixtures that may have symbolized literal progress in the trip (the Gaffney Peach is proof that you are in South Carolina, and that years-long mess of transitioning from 85N to 77 in North Carolina was a halfway mark) or fixtures that spoke of a sense of place (BBQ restaurants, fireworks stores, and LARGE truck stops).

The two fixtures that tell me I am in my home state are:

1. smooth roads (Virginia is a commonwealth, so taxpayers pay for better roads)
2. this:

The smoothly undulating horizon line of the old Appalachians, the blue-green cast of those forms, the countryside, a split-rail fence...all of those things, compiled into one view.  That's home. And while I don't necessarily aspire to ever live there again, that view never fails to command my notice.  I am fiercely, utterly compelled to regard it (it's so attention-grabbing that it's best that someone else drive).

Over a year ago, I happened to go to my hometown on the weekend of my high school homecoming.  I didn't really care for football when I went to school there, but I rationalized that I'd probably see some old friends.  The game was in early evening, and I couldn't capture the scene, but here's a standard graduation image from the same open stadium:

Yes, tradition dictates that Glenvar High School graduates wear green and gold for graduation.  This view is a slice of what those in-the-know call 'Highlander Heaven.'  Picture credit goes to John Wimmer, with the Roanoke Times.

I sat in the stands with a friend I've known since the 8th grade.  And we talked about lots of things, and I sort of watched the game, but I could not stop looking at that mountain backdrop in the cool twilight.

I felt like kicking myself for ever having taken the view for granted.  It was so...luxurious.

And on my taxi ride into Rome, I thought about the fixtures - the markers - the 'hey, you're in ROME now' sights that would play out in front of me every time I return.

First sighting:  umbrella pines

the sun-soaked oranges and yellows of apartment housing

the immense lines outside of the Vatican...

they really do stretch for blocks and blocks

A Space Invader!

zebra crossing...the pedestrian-friendly alternative to dying on a road

Palm trees...

domed churches

no chance of scurvy here...orange trees line a number of streets

Little winding cobblestone streets

Big monuments...hordes of tourists

Statuary

Odd sculptural fragments - many ancient - embedded and otherwise interwoven into more modern architecture

That rotunda, lurking in the neighborhood

And always this.  This is my neighborhood. Home.