I want to go home. You know, where I came from. I live now in the Pacific Northwest. It rains a LOT. I'm a Southern boy - born and raised in Virginia, went to High School in southern Texas.
When I go home to visit, I can smell the marshes, with their sulfurous odor of decaying seashores, exposed sea mud... and I know intrinsically that the very smell flows through my veins. The smell of the wind over the ocean hitting my face. The way the sun looks right at sunset. It's like the wavelength of the rays are different... Beckoning me home.
I can deny my heritage no more than I could deny being Caucasian or red headed. Well, it used to be red :)... My mouth yearns for the taste of pulled pork barbecue, brisket done Texas style, shrimp boiled fresh from the boat, knowing they were swimming happily in the ocean only hours before.
I remember the sounds .... the splash of mullet in the channels, the lap of water on the shoreline. The look of the moon as it rose over the water. In Virginia, the rustling of trees getting ready to drop their leaves, the crunch of the ice covered puddles as I go to the bus in October/November.
Sometimes I wonder if the strength of these yearnings are not the pull of home but the wish to return to simpler times. I don't know.
What do you think?
Until our next ........