Home is Where The Heart Is.

This is my favorite time of year. When I wake up in the morning, a slight breeze, and the sun kissing my face. When winter is falling into an unpleasant distant memory. Similar (but not the same) as that haircut you had in middle school. 
         Truth be told I'm a little homesick. Of course, when you are so emotionally attached to more than one place, you often feel homesick no matter where you are. But after this week, I could do with a few Columbia County days. To sit in the living room of our strong and silent house, reading in the afternoon sun as the clock on  the mantel ticks on by. Or sitting with my Katie-did sipping tea and "talking it out" until the wee hours. I may not always like what she has to say, but I miss her saying it. Sweet tea and "sunbathing" in the back yard. P.S: Irish American girls should not sunbath. Its less like bathing and more like cooking.
         I bet they're turning the soil if you drive on out toward Benton, always a sure sign spring is here. Other important signs include: The Bloomsburg fountain running, Rita's opening and SalVal putting outside toys for sale in the window.
          I want to get in my truck (yes Dad, its my truck for just a few months, then I swear I will gladly return it.) and drive. I need a break. I want to sit in my meeting house with the smell of old pews and cut grass and breath deep with people I love. That's how it is this morning. Yesterday too.
        Tomorrow, I might be homesick for the shore. For the waves or my Grandma's house that has its own unique smell of Lysol and bubble bath. The postage stamp yard with its giant flagpole and weird aluminum fence that leaves white dust on your clothes when you hop over it. Of course, its not the same without a man I loved more than life sitting in a leather backed recliner reading The Star Ledger and popping M&M's. Just goes to show you can be homesick for people too.
        I'm often sick for the ocean. My ocean. My sanctuary no matter which end I am standing on. A part of the planet that is more than relaxation, its restoration. I think that might be why Ireland's west coast calls to my soul so much. Ireland.
      I have one week and one day until I hop on my next adventure. Going to yet another home. Another soil that claims my heart. A place I always miss. I'm getting on an airplane that I have spent years waiting to be able to actually board. My backpack, a small suitcase, Sleepytime Pooh and me. On our way to grow, to learn, to form new bonds with a culture and people I so enjoy. To be still and listen. A lot.
 I wonder if someone with wanderlust ever actually settles in one place for very long. I guess that will be one of the many joys of my life journey. Finding how many places I can leave my heart.