These past few weeks have been a whirlwind of events. We sold our house and bought another in the span of about 10 days. The reality of moving is sinking in, sinking hard and fast. I am frenzied and inert, finding it impossible to settle down, and impossible to move. How can that be?
The truth of the matter is, I am leaving my home. Home. Lately I find myself hyper-aware of the sounds and scents of surrounding me. I will be leaving them soon, all too soon. The sound of spring peepers in the dawn and dusk are like music to my aching heart. They were in full chorus the other night, and I realized that this sound sums up my childhood. It will forever be the sound I fell asleep to at my parents farm.
The familiar clipclop of the Amish horses passing by, metal wheels grating against the pavement. I haven't seen any Amish in Maine. The woosh of the deer as they let me know they are there, the call of the ponies in the morning, asking for breakfast. The sound of the wind through the great oak trees, the swishing of the corn. The corn in Maine is a pale comparison to the corn down here. Golden fields of pumpkins and soybeans. Tobacco hanging in barns. All of this is part of who I am. I cannot forget it, and yet feel that I am losing all of this. My children will certainly forget, and that is like a knife to my heart. They won't be from here, they will be from there.
I know there will be new things in Maine. Maine is a lovely state, and I love New England. Knowing how homesick I am already feeling, I can only imagine the feeling of wholeness- completeness- that Chris is feeling now. We are, after all, returning to his home. The place that has been calling his heart. It is both a sacrifice and a gain for me. Again, the paradox.
That's all I can say. I can't put a smiley face on it right now. Right now it's too hard.