Today, I was homesick. I still am for that matter. But, my homesickness is difficult to describe, I fear. I went to Coalville today -- first time back in a year. I lived there longer than I've lived anywhere else in my life. My children grew up there. My family became a family there. I became a grandmother there. I raised chickens, grew a garden, renovated a house, made friends, wept tears of joy and sorrow, and totally immersed my life in that community. But, I found that as I drove into the valley, my homesickness wasn't for the place, but for the people. I was excited to see my favorite hairdresser. I was excited to eat at my favorite restaurant and talk with some of my favorite people from church and school. I was excited as I walked the halls of North Summit and heard the whispers of the past years lingering through the empty, summertime halls. There were bittersweet feelings as I drove through the community. But, surprisingly enough, as I drove past the house, I smiled and didn't feel the heartache that I felt last summer as I drove away from my home. Instead, I murmured a prayer of gratitude that I'd had that place and then drove back down the canyon to my parents' home.
I pondered homesickness today. The feeling of being homesick is more of a yearning for the things that make us who we are. Sometimes I yearn for the home I had before my birth. Sometimes I get really homesick for the home of my youth when my brother, sister, and I fought like crazy, but then loved playing with each other as well. That's the home of Mom's cooking, reading under the bedcovers, making boats out of the couch cushions, pulling out the sofabed and having Dad sneak in to scare us, making tents out of the quilts, watching for Dad's police car to come home, fishing with the family, camping, laughing, and going on some of our rides just to turn around once we got there because we'd arrived and that was good enough. Sometimes I really miss that time and our family.
I get very homesick for the times when my children were little. Being around the grandchildren has a way of doing that to me, especially the past couple of days when I have snuggled Jonathan and Lucas. I hunger to hold my infants again and to whisper things that I've learned to help make their lives a little less stressful. I would love to cherish the time that they were growing up just a little longer, noticing every little milestone with a more intensive microscope so that I could preserve those precious little details more fully in my heart as they moved on to the next step. Where did those years go?
I have pondered often the past 10 1/2 years with Mike. Those years have flown by! I've learned how to savor the times that Mike and I are together, but even still, there are days that I wish I could slow the clock down so that I can have more. The years of the new combined family are years that I wish we could relive so that once again we could make the most of the times that we were together -- whether spending more time at the lake, camping, family vacations, Sunday dinners, playing games, following the boys' sports, cutting Christmas trees, and just being together. I get homesick for those times -- I think Sunday dinner is the one I miss the most. If I could go back, I'd relax a lot more, be less critical, say "I love you" even more, and give more hugs.
Even as I reflected on the past today, I found myself homesick for my current home. Ever since Mike first took me to Alaska, I was homesick for a place that wasn't even truly mine. I was just a visitor, but I yearned for it all the same. I'm homesick for my husband and for our time together. Even when our lives get hectic and we're running in different directions, I get homesick for Mike if I don't have a chance to get a hug. His arms are a haven for me, one that I miss when life gets too crazy or I'm away. The family thinks we're silly sometimes, but that's ok. We're steady.
I miss the people who have touched my life whether as momentary visitors in my world or those who touched it in large ways and have altered it forever. Childhood friendships, high school pals, college roommates, teaching buddies, church family, best friends, siblings, parents -- they all have helped to shape me into who I am today. I wish sometimes that I could go back to share with them the significance that they've had in my life. I've tried at various times to remember to tell people like the beautiful lady who dropped into my life at one point and shared a Young Women's activity with our family which helped to change my life and bring me back to church. It's nice to know when we touch a life for the good, so I have always wanted her to know. It was rewarding to see her reaction as I shared the memory with her and thanked her. She had had no idea that her fulfillment of her calling had meant so much to me. Still does.
I know that when I leave Utah in a few days, I will be ecstatic to be home again. But, in no time at all, I will feel the pangs of homesickness once again as I leave the next generation that has snared my heart. My beautiful little girls who first laid the word "gramma" on my ears with their sweet voices. The big wonderful eyes of little Jonathan, and the sweet, tender heart of our baby Lucas. They have marked themselves permanently upon my heart and I will forever miss them wherever I am, even when I'm just in the next room.
I get sort of homesick, sometimes ... all the time. But, you know, the lesson I've learned and that I'm still learning is that because of these feelings, I need to seize every moment and suck the marrow from life. If I do this, then during those moments of homesickness, I can be content knowing that I have created wonderful memories worthy of missing.
