In about an hour I’ll catch a cab to the airport. As I sat on my bed this morning contemplating my upcoming travel, I realized I was feeling homesick. The odd thing is that I was feeling homesick for California not Utah. California is where I grew up, and usually when I come here I have a strong “not my home anymore” feeling. This time I found myself watching the palm trees, ground ivy, and the architecture. I think it is a reflection of a longing for childhood or a simpler time. The feeling is a very quiet one. I’m only sensing it this morning because all of my usual thoughts are packed away. Indeed the minute I opened my laptop and saw my email, my mind dashed back to Utah and the interesting projects which are ahead of me.
However I am a little haunted by a conversation I had with Mary.
“I miss palm trees.” I said.
“Obviously you need to plant a palm tree in your yard.” she answered.
“Palm trees don’t grow well in Utah.” I answered.
As soon as the words were spoken I could see the potential meta-ness of them. My mind set to work trying to parse out the symbolism of the palm tree. There may be some there, or there may not. Either way I’m glad I’ve seen it and written about it. This way I have a link to that quiet feeling, a thread I can follow even when the trappings of my regular life flow in to fill up most of my emotional space.
Having described the homesickness feeling, I discover that I am also looking forward to going back to Utah which is my actual and emotional home. I will slip back into it like a warm and familiar coat. As I understand it, having a coat will be useful as the weather there continues to be cold.
Typing this, I’m currently on “vacation”. I’m taking about a week from Rapid City, where I moved a few months over a year ago, to visit my paternal relatives in Omaha and I’m having an odd form of homesickness as well. I’m in a house that I haven’t been in for 8 years, slipping into place again with my brothers and stepmom and partially my dad, although he and my stepmom divorced. It’s weird being in Omaha again, in fact, getting near the city you can actually smell the difference in the air. A distinct wet smell that was funny to experience after so long away. It’s bound to be a trip of mixed feelings, visiting family and having taken this trip to mostly visit my great grandfather, Uncle Toppy, before he passes from cancer or kidney failure.
It’s nice to be back in town, though I suppose I don’t know it nearly as well as I probably should. I’m going to visit the one friend I have left in this town, visit my various family members on my dad’s side and beat on my brothers with nerf swords. And for once, I’ll have a week almost solely to myself with little stress. Odds are that things won’t be better when I go back to South Dakota, but that’s not on my mind right now.
Memory is stored in funny ways and triggered by unexpected stimuli. Smell is actually a big memory trigger. I hope you have a great trip.