Homesick

A certain time of twilight permeates the soul. I think, to photographers, it is known as the blue hour. In Missouri, the locusts choose this particular moment to whir and hum, announcing the advent of late summer, early fall, back-to-school, and apple picking time. The skies turn that incredible shade of turquoise laced with lavenders and pinks. And I want to go home. I imagine I always wanted that, even when I LIVED at home. Something twists at the chords of the heart along about this time of night, and we think of baking brownies for children now all grown or dads who have left this world too soon. It is that time when a person can sit on the porch or the front step, shut those eyes and take herself through her gramma's pink and green kitchen. When my eyes are shut, the kitchen windows are raised, a dark wooden stick holds them aloft, and the sounds of the locust blend with the clatter of a little gramma in my memory who never tired of my "nonsense" and who loved me with her fierce Leo heart. Her birthday is Wednesday, and she would have marked her 111th birthday....and the day looms as a hollow shell of celebration much like a gaily decorated giftbox with no goodie inside.


And I miss it all. While the summer withers to its close and my school begins on Friday, I ache in the bones and in my core for some long-ago stuff that won't be coming back. I do this fully aware and extremely grateful for the full cup of good life I am drinking at the moment. The third anniversary of my dad's passing is this week, as well... and unbelievably, the 34th anniversary of my other grandmother. Also this week marks the birthday of my son's lady love, and we were blessed with a birthday celebration last night... Incredibly, this week, rich in momentous occasions, is the birthday of my father's dad, Grandad... who would have been a mere 129 years old tomorrow...
So, it is with small wonder that I become a bit melancholy during the second full week of August. It brings intense heat, relentless sunshine, and a convergence of memories that chip away at my core. If I take a "memory" tour of my own kitchen only a mile down the road, it seems as distant as my grandmother's. Sounding a bit like a Snapple commercial, I mutter disenchanted grumbles about my "stuff" I have left behind and maybe lost... I know it is just "stuff" but it was "good stuff.".....

Once I tacked a small poster on my schoolroom door that read, "I wish, I wish that I could see the life that lies ahead of me. I wish, I wish that I could know the places I have left to go." At the time, I used to ponder this little black poster with sparkling dandelion fluffs flying hither and yon. I wondered if I believed the message on this thing, or not... I don't think any of us are capable of knowing the future, nor are we competent to stand it... So, with the advent of total darkness and the passing of Twilight into night... I am ready to settle in to my cozy bed and prepare for a cozy night's dreaming... but let me tell the world... I am truly, honestly... homesick.