Homesick

It rarely happens to me that I wake up in the night, unsure of my surroundings. But it's happened here, in the darkest hours of the night, when I'm woken by rain on tile roofs and the swishing of palms on my windowpane. I stretch, am surprised by the cool metal of the home gym as my arm hits the weight machine, which comes right up to the edge of my mattress. I don't know where I expected to find myself - at home on Burgundy Lane, or back in Laws.

Laws, Mizzou, last year, is an awkward memory for me. There are moments, especially in the waking day, arguing with my family, that it's hard to believe I ever went away, and lived for a year alone, with a bunch of loveable and crazy foreigners (and even crazier Americans) in the huge concrete monstrosity of Laws hall. Mayumi, Mitsuki, Ben, Clint, Mimi, Laurence, Tomomi... Timur, Santi, Pat and Maria... even Laura, Tabi, and Jorge to a lesser extent - is it really possible that we met, lived together for a long year, and then, now, it is over? And Mayumi, having been my roommate, that is the strangest.

When I wake up at night I don't wonder about having lived there - the whole environment is absolutely present in my mind, less as a memory than as a reality. Without my eyes, I could climb out of my bed, make my way out of my room, and to the bathroom, or perhaps down the stairs. I might even get as far as Dobbs.

But no, I am here in Florida. And that's strange indeed. My family is here and all of my things. The furniture and paintings that surrounded me throughout my childhood have been transplanted to a new climate, almost a new nation. It feels like a crossover fanfiction or something, strange.

I am vaguely aware that this is one of those magical places people leave their own homes and spend loads and loads of money to come to and go to the beach rain or shine and take pictures and bring home memories. And that's strange. I've never lived in such a place before, and I always thought that if I did I should appreciate it a bit more. But the beach isn't really my scene, at least not yet.

When I walk on the beach I feel old. I feel like walking slowly and watching clouds and sunsets and seagulls and thinking about my life, maybe even writing about it. Except that I haven't hardly lived my life. It is a peaceful place - no place for me now. I am not ready for peace.

Being transplanted has had another effect on me - one that raises questions and may have long term implications. Or it may mean nothing. I am homesick for Missouri. It happens a little bit with silly things, like longing to hear "Dierbergs" and "Schnucks" instead of "Winn Dixie". And it happens more with bigger things, like Winter.

I miss it for myself, a bit. I watched a few minutes of Greys Anatomy and Meridith walked outside in a coat, the whole world grey and her breath coming out in a mist, and I felt it in my chest. I am so grateful that I am going back to Missouri in the fall - I'm not sure I could manage without the winter. Go ahead and tell me it makes no sense, I already know it.

But it gets more complex than a longing for snow - I was playing Rosetta Stone, and some of the pictures show late fall, and early winter... and in no exotic way whatsoever, but perhaps a little girl in a little coat, smiling shyly and standing in front of a suburban street with bare trees and pale grass behind, the last few leaves of fall dancing on the lawn. That street could be in my old neighborhood, that coat could come from Wal Mart or Target, that child could be my own -

I understand suddenly, this want to have your children grow up in the same way you did. It gives me a certain feeling to imagine my children growing up in colourful warm parkas, playing with scattered leaves, feeling their cheeks and ears and nose turn bright red in the cold, going door to door on halloween, going off to the woods because they know thick winter clothing makes the thorns more bearable, cracking frozen puddles with their feet, watching sleet hit the windows as they snuggle under blankets indoors...

A lot of images go through my mind. I don't require my future children to experience each and every one of them, but each one of them makes me smile and think of them. Not that we need be in Missouri - almost all of these things could happen, for example, in New England, and most of them (swapping out Wal Mart and giving up Halloween) could happen in Scandinavia (if I went far enough north I would lose the leaves, and they won't be exactly the same anywhere else).

Just some thoughts and feelings, is all. And even if I were to move off to some exotic land, there's nothing saying that I might not be able to take my kids home for a year or two for them to understand America. I am planning on shipping or accompanying them back to the states for a month most summers anyway. Still, it's imperfect - there's a difference between having Trick or Treated, and growing up doing it every year, from being carried by mommy dressed up as a pumpkin to being a little witch whose daddy follows her around holding pounds of candy to going to high school costume parties dressed as a... bunny?

And I've avoided mentioning deep winter and Christmas and New Years altogether! I've avoiding thinking about them, if you want to know the truth. If leaves falling and winter coats make me so lonesome, what will the thought of Christmas without snow or Santa do to me? :P But I'm sure I'll give it all due thought before I make any of that sort of life decision.

And one can't have everything. Even people who never leave their own small town grumble about "when I was your age", and I know my children won't have Pokemon or Pottermania as part of their childhood. So, I dunno. :)

I'm just thinking onto paper.