I desperately miss my mountains: the smell of sage and juniper, the twisty piñon pines, the long views, the rivers, the wide open spaces. I desperately miss the profound quiet and the chats with neighbors. I am hopelessly homesick. The water is beautiful but I have not yet learned its language. In my dreams I have fallen asleep on a kayak in the river and awakened in crowded, unfamiliar lands. I have no internal maps of this place. In the daytime I am well and happy to explore this new life. At sunset I begin to ache for high altitudes and solid ground beneath my feet. How to proceed? Just breathe. And let the tears flow. At sunrise my internal cartographer, linguist, and oceanographer will begin again.
homesickness
