I don't know whether it's because I have been so cold this year, or whether I just want to metaphorically rest in my mother's bosom, but I have been so homesick lately.
I memory-scent my hometown's fragrance and it makes my heart ache. Yes, Charleston has a fragrance. A lot of Southern cities do, but Charleston in the spring smells like gardenias, roses, tea olive and sea air, with some rugged undernotes of horse and pluff mud. It's been a couple of years since I have done this, but lately I will be making our plans for the day and I will find myself mistakenly thinking "oh let's pop over to East Bay Street while we're at it," or "we haven't been to Folly Beach in a while, let's go there, " or worst of all "Let's see if [insert person I love here] wants to go to lunch today."
I don't question our decision to move here, because it was the right thing to do at the time. We have been "making it" and the children are thriving. I have made solid, good friends and gotten in touch with the real me who I'd been missing for quite some time. We have barely scratched the surface of what it means to live in the PNW, and I look forward to exploring even more. The life we've built here has been done with intention and mindfulness, instead of a haphazard arrangement based on reactions to circumstances and weather. But I admit to some mild panic when I wrote "It's been a couple of years." We have been here for a while, and we know we won't be leaving any time soon if ever. That's a nice thing, to know... but the permanence of separation is a hard thing for a person like me to bear.