A slightly delirious muse

Today, I have the dangerous urge to think about all things that mean Home. Like remembering what Home smelled like, sounded like, felt like. And who was there on a quiet afternoon stolen away from college studies. Listening to a sewing machine whirring away, chatting about cool stuff I learned in class with the one person who always seemed interested (and tried to not seem too grossed out), and waiting for the last person to come home from work. Going outside to feed a large red animal (no, not Clifford), sitting with her and watching the sunset as the feed is munched by her big jaws, smelling the sweet alfalfa and grain.

It's just so beautiful. I knew I had it good.

Maybe when I have my own home I'll stop waking up and feeling like I'm in the bed I grew up in. And maybe the longing for the home I used to have won't be quite as deep and tugging. I don't know.

All I know is, I'm homesick. Homesick for a home that's gone, for a person that's gone. Sometimes life sucks, I guess. But they say it's worth it. And besides, there are other good things going on. I mean, come on. I lived in New Zealand for a while. Now I live in San Diego. And there's a city full of people I love that I can always go back to and visit. And there's facebook, keeping everyone connected. So let's raise a glass (of Guinness, please) to hope!