Homesick?

Do you ever get homesick? I think when homesickness comes up most people associate it with young people going off to camp or school or into the military. I can associate with the last one very distinctly. I remember being so homesick in the military I cried. The longer I stayed, the less homesick I was. And I would imagine that is true for most people.

When I went to the Pacific I had orders for an 18 month assignment. As it turned out, after I was there a couple of months the tour was shortened to a 12 month tour. Those already on assignment had their tour prorated. Mine was dropped from 18 months to 15 months. I was pretty homesick the first month or so, but as I made friends and made contact with a missionary from our church I settled into the flow of things.

When I returned to the US I was assigned to a base in southwest Oklahoma just 4 hours from home, and in the same town one of my mother’s sisters lived. I ended up not staying on base but staying with my aunt and uncle for the rest of my enlistment. So I wasn’t homesick much at all.

During my stay in southwest Oklahoma I met my future wife. After being discharged I moved to Baltimore, married and settled into life near the east coast.

But there were times when I would get homesick. Being about 20 or so hours from my home by car we didn’t get to visit very often. I missed my family and the area in which I grew up.

I remember one time crying like a baby when leaving my parents and heading back to West Virginia. It hurt to leave again.

Time brought a lot of changes in my life as it does to everyone’s. We moved to West Virginia as I just mentioned, then later we moved to Virginia. We had children and began to become a family ourselves. The nucleus changed from my parent’s home to my own. Most of the time I was too busy to be homesick. Most of the time I was involved in taking care of my own family to think too much about the family into which I was born.

Events that typically are celebrated with extended families were difficult. My parents and siblings could not be with us as we welcomed our children into our lives. My parents and siblings did not get to witness and celebrate our children’s accomplishments as they grew. I and my family missed out on being with my parents as they grew older. My own family missed out on weddings, births, graduations and accomplishments of my first family. We even missed out on funerals. I was able to be at my dad’s funeral but no one else. Georgiann was able to be with me at my mom’s funeral but none of our children. And only Todd was able to accompany Georgiann and me to my brother’s funeral.

All of us missed the funeral of my first nephew. All of us missed the funeral of my brother-in-law.

I now have only the remnants of a family. I know that comes to a lot of people as they grow old. But if you have been close as your family slips away, and you have celebrated the good times and shared the bad times it seems easier.

Beyond family and family events I find myself with an enduring homesickness for the Midwest. I love the mountains in which I live. I love to spend time in them and see them on a daily basis. But I still miss the wide open plains. I miss Kansas as well. Kansas and Oklahoma have much in common as far as landscapes go. I miss standing on the only high point in miles, the overpass of a road as it crosses a set of railroad tracks, and looking down the tracks until they merge together into a single track and fade into the distance. Turning to the left or right and as far as you can see looking over the tops of wheat or hay tassels.

I miss the narrow two lane roads that are so straight the concrete fades in the distance as the heat waves cause it to shimmer out of focus. The narrow two lane roads with grass that begins at the edge of the pavement and goes as down into the shallow ditch and under the 3 strand barbwire which is held up by old locust and oak post cut from branches just the right size with knots on the sides where other branches were trimmed.

Narrow two lane concrete roads with a seam every 20 or 30 feet which make a distinctive clunk clunk as the tires roll over them, first the front tires then the back tires.

The electric poles with the creosote fading from them with the foot pegs up the side and the electric wires attached to the cross beam with glass insulators.

And the cows standing in the heat of summer slowly chewing as they slowly turn to watch your car go by. Red cows and brown. Black cows. Beef cows. Mostly all beef cows. Dairy cows require more pasture than beef. The grass in Oklahoma and Kansas mostly grows too slow to support much dairy. Beef cows are the majority.

I miss all of that. I get homesick for that. And it seems odd to me. Odd because I would have thought that homesickness was about missing people. Family and friends. Relationships and events. Laughter and sadness. But I seem to miss places.

And the most odd thing about this homesickness is the homesickness I have for a place I have only been in about 22 days total.

How can a person miss a place so foreign and so different after only experiencing it for 22 days? I don’t know. But I do. I miss Kenya like I miss Oklahoma and Kansas. And if given the choice of living in any of the three places, it would be a difficult choice for me.

There are many reasons why I could be happy in each place, and just as many why I would not be happy in any of them.

But before you think I am unhappy where I am, let me assure you I am not. My family, my own family, is here. My job is here. My church is here. I love the mountains. And what about the ocean, you say. You are close to the ocean. Well, the ocean I like in 2 or 3 day doses. After a couple or three days at the ocean I am ready to get back to the mountains.

Homesickness. A weird thing. With no cure as far as I know.