Thursday, January 19, 2012

Homesick


As I sit by the window in my dark living room staring out at the city skyline, I should be thinking about how beautiful the lights are.  I wish I was thinking how beautiful they are.  For they are beautiful.  But instead, as I sit staring out the window, I feel homesick.

I’m homesick for that suburb on the west coast where I was born and raised.  I’m homesick for my dad who would come home from work and spend evenings trying to master a new song on the organ.  I am homesick for my mom who almost always knew what to say to make the hurt go away.  And when she didn’t know what to say, she was always there with a hug.  I miss family game nights and movie nights.  I miss my mom’s cooking.  I miss my young and care-free days as a child when my only responsibility was to have fun.  My life seemed so much harder back then but now I realize it was so easy.

I am homesick for my neighbors.  The couple across the street who knew me since my family moved into our house when I was just four years old.  The family next door who would wander over to our yard when we were outside on summer nights just to say hi and end up staying until after dark.  I miss our neighborhood barbecues and Christmas parties.  I miss people who knew me well and loved me for who I am and not the things I have (or don’t have).  I miss my church back home.  I miss the friendly people who never let any visitors leave without welcoming them.

I really don’t mind this city… most of the time.  It’s an awesome city.  But at times I do feel isolated.  Sometimes I feel insignificant.  But I know there are people here that love me.  The most important of those people is D.  So since he still has two and a half years until he graduates, I’ll make the best of it.  But sometimes, like tonight, I wish I could get out of this city.  I wish I could go back to the home I once knew.  I wish I could hug the people that still mean so much to me and tell them I love them.  I wish I could spend a night in my house.  I wish I could listen to my dad play the organ and play games with my mom.

I know this too will pass.  I’ll be okay.  I’ll wake up in the morning and be ready to start the day.  But for now, I’ll just let the tears flow.

1 comment:

Linda Condie said...

Hugs, sweetie. . . . I love you. :)