So, we’re having a relaxing evening, playing Lexulous with relatives, each of us on our own computer, listening to Putomayo Music’s Latin Playground (at the moment – awhile ago it was the Out of Africa soundtrack, before that the Brandenburg Concertos).
I looked over at T., at the beginning of the last song, and realized: Latin music is home for us both. She was dancing in her chair, as was I.
Last time we were home, while T. was getting her hair done, I went out for lunch. I went to a little Mexican restaurant and actually sat in, rather than taking away – it was simply so familiar, and tugged at me to stay. It’s strange: the second culture of California said “home” to me in a way which was so much stronger than anything else, and I realized that I’d missed it terribly.
It’s the same, listening to this album, on a full stereo.
Home seems to be Latin America, or, at least, the music of Latin America.
-D