“Home is a name, a word, it is a strong one; stronger than magician ever spoke, or spirit ever answered to, in the strongest conjuration.”
I don’t know what it is about Fall. It is my favorite season of the year; I love the cool nights and the changing leaves. Well, we don’t really have that here in South Texas, at least not the way it is back home in North Carolina, but it is Fall, nonetheless. And somehow, it makes me melancholy. Several years ago, I wrote about this feeling, and labeled it nostalgia. And I suppose what I feel is a touch of nostalgia, with a large dose of melancholy.
We have started decorating for Halloween, and in a few short weeks we will have our first Halloween Party since we moved to Texas. And I can’t help but remember all of the wonderful parties we used to have back home. Home. In North Carolina. I was born in New Mexico, and grew up in New Mexico and Texas, but after living almost 20 years in North Carolina, and raising my family there, it became home to me. And tonight, on Facebook, my best friend’s daughter left a simple comment, straight from her heart to mine, that left me in tears. “I miss you. Come home.”
Oh, how I wish that I really could! But I know, all too well, that you can never go back. It would never be the same. Kendall is gone, and our house finally sold, so we couldn’t live there anymore. And now, we have made so many wonderful friends here in Texas, that if we left here, we would miss them, too.
But in my heart I can always go home, and my sweet memories of times gone by are always a safe refuge for me when the stresses and anxieties of the now become too overpowering for me. So tonight I will fall asleep dreaming of the mist-filled valleys of the Blue Ridge Mountains, and go home, if only in my dreams.