Over the past two days I’ve had three different conversations about my life in Scotland. By the time I got in my car to drive home, I was deeply homesick for it, mostly the friends and coworkers I miss, but also mundane bits like Christmas Eve in Waitrose, random herds of curious horses, learning how to ride the bus in a foreign land, and frost-covered moss. I was thinking of that moss when I encountered the frost-dusted leaf in this photo.

Homesickness is generally expressed as a one person, one place phenomenon, but I have experienced waves of homesickness for every place I’ve ever lived. I even yearn for Alabama from time to time, especially the late afternoon summer thunderstorms that shake the magnolia trees, all slick green and heavy cream. Does it make me feel fickle sometimes? Sure. Someone once excoriated my use of the word “favorite” because, in his words, “They can’t all be favorites.”

Can’t they?

Writing from: a quiet study in Portland, Oregon. Listening to: “Trains” by Poppy Ackroyd.

5 thoughts on “Homesick.

  1. I am glad you are here. Otherwise I would be missing you now! And I think you can have never too many favorites. I think that means you love and live passionately. Funny thing is I just finished a book that was talking about having too many favorites.

  2. This won’t help, but now we’ve got our flat in Blackford, we could have been (almost) neighbours! You’ll make friends wherever you go though – and a community’s a big bit of what makes some place home…

  3. This probably won’t help but…we miss you too! Burger just isn’t the same without you and Bruntsfield is looking particularly twinkly at this time of year. You’ll just have to come visit soon!

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