On Being Homesick

I was three weeks into two months of travel and absolutely convinced I was done. I was finished. I could go no further. I was so homesick my whole body ached. Here I was in one of the most beautiful regions of England, the Peaks District, and I could barely get out of my chair. My daughter, the wise one indeed, asked me, “What is it you miss? Write it down. What do you want to go home to?”

On the surface it was easy. I missed my dog, my bed, a larger choice of clothing. Hell, a choice, period. I missed the nighttime sounds that we all grow used to putting us to sleep. I missed cooking and good coffee. I missed driving on the right side of the road. I missed my own car.

But it goes deeper. My homesickness went to familiarity. Opening a cupboard and recognizing the contents; turning on the shower with my eyes closed; knowing which aisle the bread and yogurt could be found. I was tired to my bones of figuring out the puzzle of every day. Three weeks was enough.

More then the constant brainteaser of how to get from point A to point B, I was in need of a good friend by my side. Very few of us are solitary animals and though I have gone it alone a majority of my life, it is not my preferred way of navigating. I relish laughter and shared joy with a good friend. My most precious moments are those with someone else in my life. By the time I got to northern England, I had stayed in the home of six strangers, retelling my story and hearing theirs. At the point of my intense need to return to native ground I was not alone. I was staying at a retreat center for Unitarian Universalists and they were lovely and welcoming. So what was it?

Our call to be with our tribe is forceful. To see the faces of those who know us the best, who are empathic to our struggles, faults and foibles is to see ourselves. By the time I was three weeks into my journey I had lost a bit of who I was; I had lost my reflection in the mirror.

POSTLUDE: I did continued on my travels, not letting the intensity of homesickness to get the better of me. I joined my niece and together we discovered things about ourselves that were new and exciting. She became my mirror and I in turn hers.

I also returned to car.