Homesickness is not always a vague, nostalgic, almost beautiful emotion, although that is somehow the way we always…
Homesickness is not always a vague, nostalgic, almost beautiful emotion, although that is somehow the way we always seem to picture it in our mind. It can be a terribly keen blade, not just a sickness in metaphor but in fact as well. It can change the way one looks at the world; the faces one sees in street look not just indeferent but ugly…perhaps even malignant. Homesickness is real sickness–the ache of the uprooted plant.
~Stephen King
Definitely understand this message. Going back to the Midwest again this summer and I am that uprooted plant he speaks of.
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I believe this. I’ve felt this way about Maine in the past. Same place where S King is from..
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My friend Ellen is outside at a lovely cafe eating cornbread and collard greens and fresh seafood and she’s sending me photos of the Florida sunset ….I want to go back home.
So. Bad.
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I do love the Midwest in the Fall cobalt please. We moved from Florida up to the Peoria area in the summer late summer of 1977 and there’s just something about cornfields and football games that remind me of then.
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I’ve always wanted to go up and visit Maine Ben Zaitz.. And I would most definitely want to go to the area where Stephen King is from. I’ve never been… I’ll have to put that on the bucket list.
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BobbieZen I could give you a nice tour.
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Maine is awesome. I almost got to move there when my husband was offered a job there. But the night the offer was made, in that motel room he got cold feet and poof went the chance. And re: Midwest corn? Dang I miss lots of sweet corn and garden tomatoes! Hmmm when I think about it more, perhaps I liked the early King books so much for the Maine settings.
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There’s a wonderful Welsh word, hiraeth, that has no exact English translation. It’s essentially a mixture of homesickness, nostalgia, and grief for what has past. I believe I’ve felt that often in my life.
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having reached the last quarter of life I have traveled many roads…some bright and some quite dark…and I retreated home again to only learn that you can’t…it is there no more too often…it doesn’t set static and wait for you in that time and place you dream of…it is that that causes homesickness in me…the knowledge home is there no more as I knew it…the angst in my heart is awful when I think of it some times…best always my friend for these glimpses behind life’s stage and I hope it all remains just for you
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Hiraeth…. what a beautiful word, & me too Terence Towles Canote. Now is good, but they don’t call them the good ole days for nothing. ♡
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I remember when I was a girl going back home to Florida as I often did for the summer to stay with my grandparents and I think it was during one of those visits I understood that you truly can’t go back home, at least not in the sense as you described gene presley.
Change is the only constant we can rely on…and growth, necessary.
But the longing…that never goes away.
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I miss my grandparents’ farm atop a hill among rolling hills in Iowa. Feel like I am of one of the last American generations to grow up with food grown right there at home and an apple orchard out the back door. Evening walks down the dirt and gravel road to Hey Holler and picking wild raspberries on the way back. Sigh
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That sounds perfectly and simply divine, cobalt please 🙂
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Nice photo.
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Thanks Hinterland Chiropractic. This was taken in Vilano Beach Florida.
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