from the woods near my house // april 2017
i have been homesick lately. there’s no other way to put it. i have been missing nearly everything – the thick bright green woods, the heat, my family, my friends, the farmers markets, the little sublet room in carrboro i lived in the spring + summer before moving, the second floor porch in the trees at that place, the solo apartment i lived in before that, the quiet, the sound of insects, the greenway, the fruits + veggies that are and will be in season, knowing things like the back of my hand and always being able to take someone to a neat place, the ease, the familiarity, belonging.
it is augmented by the time of year. i have realized that the period of january through march has been hard the last five years. i become more sensitive, my mind and heart like frayed nerve endings, ready to react. i view life in a darker light, more apt to see what is not working, rather than what is. i am certainly sensitive to the seasons, as cold and dark days do not vitalize me. but that span of time in 2015 was the darkest of my life; my marriage had unraveled with what felt a dizzying quickness. i spent those months dazed, unmoored, sorrowful, with an acute sense of loss, until the beginnings of acceptance, a shift in perspective, a physical move, and no doubt, the emergence of spring, helped jolt me back into the world. i was quick to work after that, determined to sit with and then shed the anger and sadness that i knew would keep me from my own life if i let them. however successful i was at that, i have observed that my mind still allows those feelings to creep around the edges during that time each year. life feels less certain, people are to be less trusted, and i feel less loved. maybe it will not always be that way. i hope not.
i have observed these past two winters that this experience also invites homesickness. i long for what i know, for what i didn’t realize quite how much i loved until i left. [isn’t that the way?] i dwell on the smallest glints of memories. leaves shimmering bright green in the sunlight on riley’s and my walks in the woods. making food on the miniscule counter in my solo studio apartment. how riley’s nails sounded on that floor. floating in the eno river quarry, the late afternoon light on the water. the tomatoes at the farmers market in july. sitting on the my parents’ deck with them. the first step into hot sand at the beach. taking one or three ill-advised tequila shots with my best friends at our favorite little bar and then hopping into the photo booth.
the fact is, i love much about my life out here. i am almost constantly learning new activities and challenging myself – skiing, rock climbing, trail running. i am amidst magnificent mountains all the time, which is humbling and fills my cup. i am building a relationship with the most loving partner i have ever had. i am striving to find ways to make a new city feel home.
but it is harder and lonelier than i thought it would be. and the thousand little things that subconsciously made home, home, it turns out are not so little after all.
