Vic and I generally live in a world of silence. This is preferable to both of us, as I can’t stand his musical sentimentality and bombast, and he favors not my old-timey fiddling or alt-country stylings. A band that we can both rally behind is a rare thing indeed.
Without a car, I hardly ever listen to the radio, so it is a bit of Jet Blue magic, that I saw the Decemberists playing their latest single, “O Valencia!” on a talk show during my last flight to Boston. A sucker for jangly pop since my REM youth, I happened on the CD while getting some camping supplies for our road trip to Vermont.
I think the sepia smartness of the lyrics lulled Vic into the band’s weird world. “Yankee Bayonet” has easily become our favorite tune of the season, and I’m looking forward to another road trip sing-along, I will be home then…
Home is a funny thing. I was thinking all this time it’s been Seattle, a city I love. Tonight I am once again packed and heading on the red-eye to Boston. I’ll be helping Vic sort his things, turn the key on an empty apartment, and leave his friends behind. We’ll then drive out West, visiting friends and family, and stopping for beach combing and skiing along the way.
My house is clean and I have a terrible head cold, likely picked up from the flights earlier in the week. I feel a bit maudlin about leaving, but at this moment, home is waiting for me in Boston, sleeping.
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