The Elusive Andrew
Where can you find him? Tonight, or this morning, rather, and indeed at this very moment, Andrew d'Avis is laying awake in a tiny, hard bed on Christmas Day. You only find Andrew d'Avis on the East Coast and most specifically in Hamilton, Massachusetts. In a cold creaky bedroom, with ceilings so low that he bruises his knuckles while putting on shirts, Andrew d'Avis subsists on his family's love, cooking, and love of wine and cooking. Also: reunions with high school friends.
Drew d'Avis has, a few rare times, visited Hamilton but lives more comfortably in Seattle. Drew may or may not have a queen size bed in Seattle—a bed with a mattress into which he sinks, really actually sinks. Apparently, sinking is a positive factor for actually sleeping.
And Carlos d'Avis? Carlos d'Avis never sleeps. (Kind of like Samara, but with less crawling through televisions and living in wells and more working late at night.)
Where am I? Where am I supposed to be? I am certainly, at this very moment—whether or not I can fall asleep—quite right to be in Massachusetts. Today, as previously mentioned, is Christmas Day. I belong with my family: my mother Melanie, my father Federico, my sister Nicole, and her fiancé Mark. Today is a day of joy and celebration and generosity and I cannot help but share it with these people most important. Especially when this joy and celebration and generosity takes the shape of a llama.
…Pay no attention to the previous statement. Right. Moving on.
Truly, I must admit that my heart resides in Hamilton. I must admit that for as long as I have been me, I have been Andrew. But my life, my life is not here, and I do not particularly yearn for it to be so. However rickety or uncertain matters stand, I live in Seattle—I am attached to a gloriously soft bed with certain Northwest address. I am attached to sub-par Mexican food and rainy days and organic farmers' markets and unparalleled local beer and coffee.
I promised my sister that if or when she has children, I would return to Massachusetts. How could I not be part of their lives? Nicole and Mark will be married in February in Oaxaca and, while I do not suspect B will follow A immediately, the future looms all the same. How can I weigh my choices, and the costs and benefits? I must likewise admit that my life is not perfect in Seattle, and I am not perfectly happy, but still I balk so strongly when I consider leaving the West Coast.
But you just don't understand, I plead, life is just… different out there. Um, better. The sushi. THE SUSHI.
Who can say what is better or best? Who can say whom I will meet—what changes I will see—to inform these decisions more strongly? Regardless, the sky lightens out my window and the wind continues to shake the trees. Seven o'clock nears and any chance of sleep dwindles.
And no matter my grogginess, I will soon be celebrating Christmas with my lovely family. My father will brew coffee and, no matter its inferiority to Victrola Americano, I will nurse mug after mug and smile and laugh and love my life.
Happy Hanukkah, Merry Christmas, and/or Joy and Peace and Love in whatever you believe. All my best to you and yours, truly. Unless you actually slept last night: I loathe you. Right.







