January 2013 – Everything I Never Told You

“My wound is geography. It is also my anchorage, my port of call.”
― Pat Conroy, The Prince of Tide

Coming to terms with my homesickness is a work in progress. Life is a series of transitional phases; I know change is inevitable. I consider myself a restless spirit who likes to roam. I am well traveled,, but my “port of call” has always been Carolina.

Going back home now is bittersweet. I take part in the activities and festivities that I took for granted before family dinners,: fireworks in the local park, eating at my favorite restaurant, walks in uptown Charlotte, weekend trips to Charleston and the Smokies., enjoying local treats, hours of gut busting laughter with my mom, making music with my dad., seeing friends, going to Comedy Zone, or hanging out at South Park Mall, listening to Bob and Sherri. I even miss our annoying pest of a neighbor.

Texas has been isolating in some ways. I feel out of my element, out of synch…out of step. Life is bittersweet but I refuse to dwell on the bitter, not when there’s so much sweet to be found. I have my wonderful family by my side and of course, Tucker-Rock Star Cat Extraordinaire. I have dear friends and family, who may be far away but are near in spirit. Thank goodness, for Facebook and Skpe. I have my nonprofit work that gives my life worth, a fun podcast,, that I host with my best gal pal, Jane.. Soon, I will have a Masters. I’m looking forward to traveling to San Francisco this year, New England, and of course, back home. I’m trying to look at the move as a grand adventure. There’s much to see and do here. Everything really is bigger in Texas, the people are friendly and the food is out of this world.. I also know that this isn’t my permanent home, that more changes are ahead. I welcome them with an open mind.

My wound will always be my geography, this yearning for home, that overtakes me at time, filling me sadness and nostalgia. However, my healing balm is love and the assurance that the memories of the home of my yesteryear are here to stay.

This a poem is a work in progress.

Magnolias in bloom
Honeysuckles on the vine.
Basking in the lazy rays.
Of sweet sunshine.
Summers down by the lake.
Drinking strawberry wine.

Night falls
Singing the tune of a Carolina moon.
Dancing in time with fireflies.
Living beam,sparking light.
On a sultry evening that feels so right.

She calls to me.

Riding in an old Ford truck.
Papa at the wheel.
Little girl beside him.
His Junebug filled with love.
Granny with her Irish eyes
Sits on her other side.

Off on a grand adventure.
Either down by the sandy coast.
or high up in the Smokies.
Either way, it does not matter.
Sure to see the beautiful things.
Simple and lovely.
Palmettos trees, seagulls flapping, waves crashing.
Tall majestic peaks, vistas of blue and green.
These are the moments to keep.

She calls to me.

Lying on a blanket.
Staring at the clouds.
Daffodils swaying in the breeze
Bumblebees buzz around,.
Braves game on the radio
Cheering with the crowd.

Sunday go to meeting.
Singing In the Sweet Bye and Bye
Granny cut a hickory if you get out of line.
Dinner on the table
Chicken fried.
Collard greens and maters..
Dessert? Well. Maybe later.

She calls to me.

A chill in the air
Leaves falling to the ground
College football, becomes the reason.
Carolina or Clemson
Who will win the season?

Sitting on the porch swing.
Guitar making a country sound.
Feet tapping Hands clapping..
Drinking sweet tea
Life in a southern town.

She calls to me.

Mistletoe and holly
Aunts and uncles surround.
Grandpa is feeling jolly.
Gifts are passed around.
Heads bowed, hands clasped.
Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound.
Pass the turkey and gravy
Peace and love abound.

That soulful spiritual tune.
One of old mixed with the new.
Kinship and friendship.
Love and war;
Heartache and hate.
Renewal and Survival
A bitter sweet revival.
A prayer, a curse,
Sweet rhyme and verse.

She calls to me.