I got homesick last night...

I lay in bed awake after feeding Susie around 2 AM. Just thinking, and for no real reason, I thought of my hometown. The neighborhood I grew up in. My old house. My mountains. And the wave of homesickness crashed over me.

There is a park at the top of my street. My park. And within my park, there is a bench on the east side of the pond, facing west. My bench. I've spent hours there throughout my life, especially in high school, reading, writing, thinking. I remember once during a time of struggle, I sat reading a volume of John Keats. I came to this poem, "To Hope" and as I read it, I looked out over the grey skies and the valley....and suddenly the sun broke through the clouds. It was my own little miracle. My own tender mercy.

I miss my home. But what I miss is a life that is gone. That is past. So I put it aside and look forward. Only now when I look forward, I see the cliched curve in the road. The only thing I know about that curve is that it takes me away from Eugene. Away from another home. And that too causes that hollow in my stomach, that catch in my throat....