Homesick
Friday, July 31, 2009 at 2:18PM 
Cannon Beach, Oregon (July 2009)
From Before
From this island retreat house balcony, I spy a small corner of Puget Sound just past these very tall pine trees. This setting is causing a bit of sensory dissonance for me. It's my first time in the Pacific Northwest, and my first experience with this kind of body of water. The visual input says woods and lake to me, but the scent of seawater reminds me that this is no freshwater lake. As I looked out the floor-to-vaulted-ceiling windows this morning, I saw that the geography of the cove had altered dramatically. I walked down to the dock and realized it was low tide. Plump orange starfish spattered the exposed sand and lurked in the shallow edges of the water. While out on a sailboat two days ago, I spied a seal, its slippery black head and whiskers peeking out to get a look at us. Definitely not a lake, and not really the ocean proper. This was something else entirely. The sound is its own thing.
In a few days I will travel south to the Oregon coast, where I hear there is open water, flat sands, and dark, rocky sea sculptures. In a few days, I'll stand on a foggy beach, content to hear the breaking of the waves and feel the cold air rush around me. In a few days, I'll feel at home, 2,700 miles from my own.
From Now
A week later, and I'm home, sitting at my dining room table. From this angle, when I look out the doors to my backyard, trees almost obsucure the row of apartments just beyond my tall fence. Almost, but not quite. When we started house hunting six years ago, a big yard was one of my top priorities. Now I realize that a private yard is what I really wanted. Having space to live and breathe in isn't all about size; it's about perception and soul. What gives you room to be yourself? How do you feel most at home in the world? Where does your spirit finally hear that still, small voice that whispers to it all the time? For me, it's private green spaces, or even better: a long flat stretch of sand and the blue-grey mix of sky and sea. The sea teaches me many things, this in particular: We can sit in our own homes and feel homesick.
Reader Comments (4)
i sit here in my father's kitchen...here in "the middle." i actually have been thinking a lot about this idea of home...what it means to me. home is where i breathe the deep inhalation that invites me to know i am safe. i feel that in this moment. yes i do. but home is also where i feel grounded and that is indeed the trees and the water and the salt in the air of that corner of the world i call home.
(hope you can visit that space again soon. i think it is calling you my friend.)
These past couple of years, on my various blogging adventures, I have felt very 'at home' in the midst of new friends. I seem to have the natural ability to get comfortable, relax, blend in, make my 'space' when I'm with kindred spirits.
I am often more 'at home' in those places than I am at my own house. For me, it has to do with all of the 'stuff' and responsibilities that surround me when I'm here. Stuff that, perhaps, keeps my soul and spirit bound too tightly to the way/weight of how life 'should' be.
Hmmmm...
I've been to the Pacific Northwest three times now, and each time it felt somewhat like coming home -- like there's a part of me that only truly comes alive when I am surrounded by that landscape.
What is that all about? And how can I be content on the other side of the country?
While I would love to follow my heart and move, I'm much too practical for that. And anyways, maybe part of the longing is the "longing"... and if I had it in front of me it wouldn't quite hold the same power.
Thank goodness my sister (and some SoulSisters) live there so I have many reasons to visit!