I talk about being far from home a lot because it’s hard. My life is peppered with homesickness. Sometimes my life is seasoned perfectly. I barely notice that I am away, I’m filled with new or comforting flavors. But sometimes my homesickness hits me like an overly spiced dish that lingers on and on, the only remedy – time.
The internal struggle I feel between here and there, now and then is one that I am working on. It has nothing to do with the place I’m in or the people I’ve met. It is only a result of the circumstances that have happened, a path that we chose, and my personality.
So I do my best to march on and keep my head up. You can’t back up in life. You can only move forward.
A toddler teaches this best. So when I feel the heat of homesickness rushing through my soul, I look to Abigail to pull me through.
This is the only home she knows and she owns it. Sit knee to knee with her and you will see exactly what I mean.
“Touch. Touch.” She tells me as she shows me her shovel. Dig deep, get messy, feel something. So small, so wise.
The beach today was humming with people, many who are in town for the Seafood and Wine Festival. I liked it. They are here to enjoy our home, my home, too.
“Duck. Duck.” Abigail calls to an approaching sea gull and four adults walk by. Pointing to the sea she tells them “Water, Oh-shen” as if it’s an insider secret. Proud as can be. Owning it.
I’m doing the best I can and when my sister and cousin arrive in two weeks I’ll be as proud as a peacock to show off my little coastal town. I do love it here. But I also love it somewhere else and that’s okay.
Sea salt and pepper are quite the combination. I’m lucky to have both in my heart and one day, maybe sooner than I think, I will discover that my life is perfectly balanced between the two.
Until then, I’m working hard at chasing the homesickness away with the help of one fearless toddler.
Shoo. Fly! (And the period is intentional.)